Family
Emotionless
I never knew the love of a mother or how to love someone but I always wanted to try and seek something. My mom would always ask why I never said I love you to her. I would be lying if I did say it but I can’t tell her that. I know I do have emotions but I never know how to explain or act them out. I would have crushes here and there but never too serious. As I got older I wrote poems never understood the ones people wrote but I understood mine. I remember I would write them after my grandfather passed away I didn’t know why. I was never the type of person to be into poems but I liked the way I would write mine. I can’t act on emotion but I can write it. When I was 17 I tried to get into a relationship we talked they asked me out so on. We were into it 1 month they told me they loved me. I couldn’t say it back because I didn’t know what they loved about me was it me as a whole or just a part of me. I didn’t understand love I guess it all started when I got rejected or maybe when grandfather died my emotions and expectations all went flying out. I didn’t when it started but I wanted to feel something. I will be sharing some of my poems with you if you would like that. Anywho my mother and father were the only persons I didn’t know how to bond with. I would try but everytime they would talk my brain wouldn’t come up with question just the basics like how was work or how was you day. I guess you could say I was living with strangers. I may not remember much of my childhood memories but I do remember two car crashes. Not vividly but I know they happened. Also I never really was around my parents that much. They were always working for me and my sister to give us a better life but the thing is they missed out on somethings. I remember I had got a play in a part and my mom would always go to my sisters so I told my mom and dad. That I had got a part in a play she said sure we will go. When we arrived at the school before going in my parents told me finish your part and then we will leave after you are done. I felt a little mad when they said that to me. I was confused in my mind I said but you stayed for my sister whole music play why not mine. After that moment I got on stage kids were singing then it was my turn to say my part after I did. I stayed on stage but from the stage I saw my parents getting up telling me to go with them but I didn’t I stayed for the whole thing. I didn’t care that they were angry because I was angry at them and embarrassed when they were shouting my name telling me to leave with them. How can you do that to a 8yr old. I was suppose to be having fun not feeling nervous and out of place being rushed. Anyway that was an eventful night. I think we will never understand each other in a way. Everytime I speak up it just ends up in an argument and I understand where they are coming from but they will never understand mine because they don’t know what it is like to have to find some type of feeling.
By Elisa Jaimes4 years ago in Confessions
The Letter
When I was 12 years old, my dad wrote me a letter. He mailed it to my mom's, which felt more like a house than a home at the time. It was a house that provided a roof over my head, but it lacked the love and laughter my dad's 600-square-foot apartment lent for 48-hour periods once every other week. Those weekends were my saving grace during the painful adolescent navigation of divorced parent dynamics.
By Jordan Quinten4 years ago in Confessions
A Prayer For My Father
I I knew the moment my father was about to die. I couldn't explain it to you, but I just felt it. I was so sure about my hunch that I spent the entire evening sitting on the couch next to my father's bed, watching him closely while he was resting.
By Chad Verzosa4 years ago in Confessions
With Love to the Perfect Jerk
Since I was a younger teenager I had a habit of explaining my relationship with my dad like this, "I love my dad; I hate the man". It still holds true today and believe me when I say this is no secret from him. He himself adamantly describes himself as "the perfect asshole". Since I was a child I'd hear him say this jokingly to other adults in my life and especially so to my mom. She herself, besides her laundry list of flaws and trauma from a rough life, is a saint for putting up with this man she had kids with. She's a subject for another much deserved story though.
By Shannon Hamling4 years ago in Confessions
My first story
My mother has always been a bit spooky. Oh, don't get me wrong, we have a brilliant relationship and I love her dearly, and she me. But spooky. Strange things would happen to her - odd little coincidences that you couldn't quite explain. She had an out-of-body-experience once. Another time, a little dish of earrings in her room spontaneously dematerialised one earring from each pair for them never to be found again. She would invariably know who was calling on the phone before answering it and she knew exactly when to hide behind the sofa and pretend we weren't in when the wrong someone came knocking.
By Ruth Sharman4 years ago in Confessions
Words Are Power
It was a few weeks after my son’s 16th birthday. He received an Amazon gift card from one of his friends and used this to order a knife. This particular knife looked like a raptor claw. It was small, had a hole in the handle for your thumb, and was shaped like a scythe.
By Brianne Roberts4 years ago in Confessions
Dad's Midas Touch
I walk into the entryway when I spy something glittering at the top of the wire rack. I'm fourteen and old enough to know better, but young enough that the canister tempts me. Dad always kept me away from it. He had a specific section in his outbuilding just for that sacred stuff. Even the WD-40 cans were intentionally placed out of my reach just in case. I was to go nowhere near it without permission or without command. I understood his concern.
By E.L. Martin4 years ago in Confessions
