All my life, you have been my sickness. My plague.
I can’t be rid of you, and I feel you will be the death of me.
I am states away and somehow I still feel your control over me. I feel the eggshells under my feet and the rapid heart beat that keeps me on edge.
I close my eyes and see yours, angry. Sputtering over your latest annoyance. Spit hit my face as I watch your lips moving, quickly, shouting about a dirty plate. You don’t care.
You degrade me. I’m stupid, you say, lazy.
Banished to the bathroom, I pretend I’m living on a beach. Far, far away. I pretend I haven’t been sleeping next to the toilet, locked in this small room; but on the sand with the waves caressing my feet.
I’m still a child cursed by you, even as an adult far from you.