When I close my eyes I see him. It's been months since he abandoned me.
Abandonment, healing memories, but what is abandonment?
It's different to all of us, but yet the same. The first time I felt abandoned was when I was 4 and my mother and step father left me home alone, while they went out to party. It was a pull-out sofa bed, I kept hearing these things from the kitchen and I was afraid, so I hid myself under the blanket, isn't that funny? Children, if we can't see thing, things can't see us, that's what we think anyway. But it was different, it was tormenting me. I was so alone.
I was 9 when I moved to my mother in Italy, I was so excited, it was such big change for me, but I was still just a child who was just there, but no one noticed. I mean, I think she did, but she was so young herself.
Flashback, so many flashbacks. My Grandmother didn't want to look after me while my mother was in Italy, so I was sent to my step-fathers parents. They looked after me, they cared, but I needed to rebell, I was so young and so, free. No child should be so free at that age.
Flashbacks, they keep coming back and I remember I kept dreaming of a normal life, like my friends, well, I didn't have friends, but my classmates.. Their perfect family, home, siblings, happiness, toys... Innocence.
I don't know if I've ever been innocent, but I remember my mother telling me how I once found a dead rat, and I was patting it and saying "Look how peaceful he is, he is sleeping" , that was innocence, and it was taken from me.
I kept asking myself why? Did my mother hate me? Why did my father abandined me? Why my own grandparents didn't want me? Why did my mother first escaped when I was only 5 and made me do things I didn't want too? I can't remember, but I remember walking, daily, thru the woods, tired, exhausted... Cold. And there she was, so young, so naive, yet trying to provide me a better life.
Sometimes I think things happened, because of what happened to her. She was gang raped at young age, she's seen death, more violence than any other woman, not to mention me: at the age of 17. She had no idea at the time. To be homest? Neither would've I had. Uhhh, flashbacks... 17, I left everything behind to go and rebel myself from life. There was one thing I was certain off, no matter how much I loved my mother, I never-ever wanted to be like her, but the more time goes past, the more I'm becoming like her.
I never used to think about these things, until he happened. Tall, handsome, brown eyes... My Clooney. But he wasn't mine. But yet, he had such power to bring these emotions out of me, healing memories (?), he made me remember... I was that little child again, I was abandoned again. He was never mine. I was just used.
