Please, do go on. I insist, please, how is this going to unfold? I want to know what happens now, not after the end.
How? Well, the slightest slight or critical remark sets off on instant loss of control. Flames blaze from the pit of my belly & steams busting out my diaphragm. I spew projections of venom from the undertow of my soul. I ought to start tasting these words before spitting them out.
Everyone has, you know, “the first time they..” Please don’t be afraid. This is my first time too. My first external admission of the threat I live under which in an ironic twist so happens to be my waking fucking reality.
Face to face with facts. Face to face with the trust I yearn to accept yet fail to allow of myself that same respect reflected back.
How do I stay alive when everyday sometimes she is trying to kill me? How do I save my own fucking life? From my reflection, from the woman I see staring through her fathers eyes back into mine.