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158 pages, Paperback
First published February 7, 2010
I Love, Love, Love YouA sufferer of post partum depression?...a regretful teenage mother?…a suburban housewife just having a bad day? Part of the answer to that may be what luggage you bring with you to the reading. One thing is clear, it screams of pain, out of control helplessness and a fear of falling down a dark pit from which no escape is possible.
I love you, I love you, I love you.
I’m sure I do.
I must.
I have to.
Sometimes though,
I want to put my hand over your mouth to muffle your voice.
I want to clamp my hand down so hard that I can’t even hear you whimper.
I want my nails to puncture your skin.
Make it bleed.
I want to feel your fragile bones break and burst under my palm.
I see you.
Beautiful,
Sweet.
Innocent.
But when I close my eyes I see you slick with blood.
Your whole body twisted and crushed to a pulp.
I want you.
I wanted you.
I want this to end.
I wasn’t like this before you.
I wasn’t disgusting,
Immoral,
Morbid.
My darling,
My baby,
My child.
I can’t look at you.
I know I’ll kill you.
With TimeDark, beautiful, brilliant and full or emotion and violence....and life. I have rarely been this powerfully and lastingly affected by stories as I was by this literary masterpiece.
You can’t ignore things and expect them to go away. Everyone hears that throughout their life. It’s one of the main reasons women go in for pap smears, or breast exams, and men go in for prostate exams. Pretending you don’t have a problem, or not checking to find one, doesn’t make you healthy. I can only hope that doesn’t apply for things that aren’t physical.
It’s hard to stare something in the face that is so horrifying that it will change your life forever. You may judge someone for not stepping up and doing the right thing in those situations, but unless you are there, you can’t know what it’s like. We’re all just human; we can’t all be expected to be heroes.
Just like everyone else, I do what I can to live. Day to day, I would like to say I always did the right thing, but I can’t. I can say I’ve always done what I thought was right at the time though. I can’t help it if some of those things turned out to be the worst possible decisions.
I know now I shouldn’t have brought that man into my house, my bed. I know I should have allowed him alone with my daughter. I know I should have believed her when she said he touched her. I know I shouldn’t have felt jealous.
Knowing these things doesn’t change the past, but I hope time might. I hope that with time she will forget. I hope with time I will forget. I hope with time I can ignore her crying in the night, the sounds of her vomiting in her closet, the cuts along her forearms and stomach.