quietpill
I get so jealous of euthanized dogs.
- Nov 27, 2024
- 59
My brother is the only person who's ever said sorry to me. Jarring because my worst memories involve him, towering and stronger than I could ever hope to be. He would beat me, kick me in the stomach until I had to lie when my parents came home, crying when he dragged me around the house by my hair or told me I had to stop crying or we would both be in trouble.
It came when I was about twenty, hanging casually with him in my rented kitchen because he said he would give anything to be a child again and I said, verbatim, it was my worst nightmare. He said, "Oh, I guess that's my fault. I'm sorry for that." It struck me because no one else ever said it. I'd endured drug addiction, hostage situations at the hands of psuedo-family, verbal abuse, molestation, physical abuse, but no one had looked me in my eyes and said, "I'm sorry" except for him. It's laughable now knowing how much I depend on him but it is hard to shake, so to speak. It makes me feel like I should apologize to him, my mother, and everyone close to me even if I shouldn't and there's practically nothing left to apologize for anyways. I half think the sentiment comes from watching sharp objects alone and the total shame of simply wanting to come-up both in happy and bad news alike, but far less pretty than Amy Adams could ever make it.
I guess I'm surprised that nothing really makes it better? I still want to be cut into pieces, I still want to be stuck in the mud and immovable because it all feels like too much pain to handle.
It came when I was about twenty, hanging casually with him in my rented kitchen because he said he would give anything to be a child again and I said, verbatim, it was my worst nightmare. He said, "Oh, I guess that's my fault. I'm sorry for that." It struck me because no one else ever said it. I'd endured drug addiction, hostage situations at the hands of psuedo-family, verbal abuse, molestation, physical abuse, but no one had looked me in my eyes and said, "I'm sorry" except for him. It's laughable now knowing how much I depend on him but it is hard to shake, so to speak. It makes me feel like I should apologize to him, my mother, and everyone close to me even if I shouldn't and there's practically nothing left to apologize for anyways. I half think the sentiment comes from watching sharp objects alone and the total shame of simply wanting to come-up both in happy and bad news alike, but far less pretty than Amy Adams could ever make it.
I guess I'm surprised that nothing really makes it better? I still want to be cut into pieces, I still want to be stuck in the mud and immovable because it all feels like too much pain to handle.
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