is it the absence of a mother’s love,
that urges me to paint my existence in this world
as a wrong to be righted?
I never meant to cause harm
to the woman who suffered along
to bring me into
this ugly, rotten world.
it isn’t right.
it isn’t fair.
not to me,
and it never was to her.
I wonder if I will ever attain that elusive “self-love”?
it is not difficult to see beauty, is it?
with eyes drawn to the good in every one.
everyone,
except that wretched girl in the mirror,
who, every new day,
looks a bit more like
her mama.
my therapist calls it “developmental trauma”
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hello,
I’m furi
(pronounced like fury)
welcome to my blog, where I write about things that may or may not resonate with you. maybe the thoughts I express sound like they’ve been said a million times before. maybe it’s your first time hearing any such thing. in any case, I’m glad that you’re here. I hope we can find something worth discovering in one another.
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