He hits me. She yells at me. He tells me he loves me. She says I need to stand up straighter. He pinches my arms. She can’t look me in the eyes. He beats me when I don’t do anything wrong. She won’t even hug me. He says he doesn’t mean to hurt me and when he hits me, he at least apologizes. She never apologizes; her remarks are harsh and relentless. He leaves marks on my body, she leaves marks on my soul. This is my father, and that is my mother, and yet I love them both.
February 24, 2011
Word Twelve: Insanity