We all struggle

From a young age I was shown the truth of the world. Not a moment of shelter not a second to breathe. Mom and Dad are fucked up, Auntie and Uncle, Brother and Sister. I am too. 

Generational doom? Addiction — Illness — Bottles and finished cigarettes. Lovely disguised violence. Seemingly so little but just enough to slip through the cracks. The hurt on her face. The tiredness in his eyes. The person who brought thee struggling to hold on. 

Admiration — The pain seemed normal. You needed to feel it. Normal little girl in a big  world. Watching it pass by. — It's the way you must live your life. 

Early exposure? Neglect? Strong Influence? It seems to continue on. You aren't young anymore. You already know. Six years old or Sixteen makes no difference. The feeling is impending doom. Promise you'll never be like them. But you are. 

Ailment — Addiction — Bottles and finished cigarettes. Medication and Talks. "It'll never get better." Cursed family. We run the same life. We won't learn. I see him becoming like me. Broken the curse remains, I cannot save him, nor myself.

The words "runs in the family" have never been so true. You're ill, you're unsafe. You're free to do whatever you must do. What am I yapping about?