Unwanted Children – another thing I wrote

Let’s just honestly say, that many children’s creation upon this Earth was a mistake.  In several ways. People tend to deny these things, this entire post perhaps, but they avert their eyes when they do.  Then they rapidly change topic, start accusations of something you yourself have done, but they twist it around and make it sound as if they had no part in it….had no part in being the very reason why you did that (whatever it may be). And when you deny it, of being the sole factor in a certain exchanging of words, in a response, or an action, they lose what little control they had to begin with. The same lack of control that they had when they made you into what you are now, into what you were…and always will be. That need for control transforms into absolute rage, rage that stems from the fact that they must acknowledge their own mistakes, and from their own feelings of helplessness and inability to go back. They cannot go back, they cannot fix the wrongs they have made, which created all the regrets that they have now. So they take it out on you, through words and actions, by being absent or being violent. And at a certain point, it comes down to the words “Nobody wants you here! Nobody needs you!” which come out in the midst of them throwing you away completely. They try to erase you, from their mind, from their past, and from their house, all in the same action. The same breath. Some may even be so full of their regrets, their shame and disappointment, that they try to erase you completely, fully, and literally. But then, you leave. Either walking or running, eventually catching a ride. And then, they regret more. But at the same time they feel relieved, and the relief outweighs the regret, the guilt, in the same way that a branch far outweighs the single flower petal. All that matters to them is that you are gone. Throwing out every single thing that could possibly remind them of you they do not notice the silent vacancies of the places you had once occupied, nor the empty shelves and picture frames where trophies and medals, perhaps even books and drawings, once lay. Only the empty bedroom with no furniture and the dust coating the floor and walls in thick layers, remember you. One day, you might come back. Come back to the place that created you, where you were beaten and abused until the very end….until you either died or were denied a building to stay in, indefinitely. You may come back to remember, or perhaps to let go of any regrets. But in the end, you have no home to come back to. Just an empty building, or an empty plot of land. In the end, you do not become like Them.

Something I wrote when I thought about how much my parents regret having a second child (me). Sorry if this was a trigger or anything of the sort. It was not intended.