I remember the night I sat in my room, and I heard you crying, you said “I don’t want to live anymore”. I remember sitting in the corner of my room crying, if you couldn’t take life anymore, how could I?
I remember the day you threw grandpa out of the house. You kicked his toolbox into the front yard and said “get the fuck out”. Did he get tired carrying all that stuff back to ridgefield parK? I always think about that.
I remember watching cartoons. I remember you storming in and saying “give me my fucking son”. I remember her mother pleading with you. I remember you grabbing my things and not knowing what was going on. I remember you crying because of she left you, she hurt you.
I remember the time you cried on the phone, recalling everything your parents did to you growing up.
I remember punching you in the face. I was scared. I’m sorry.
I remember how scared you were to be alone. I think that’s what it was. You were just scared to be alone. In fact I think that’s why you’ve had so many kids, thats why my old room is a nursery now.
I remember when I first realized being alone was my greatest fear too.
I remember watching the sun filter through the blinds in my room, when I was grounded for days for the silliest things. I remember watching the sun filter through the blinds those nights you made me kneel in a corner for even stupider reasons. I remember watching it filter through the windows when I laid in a crib.. That was my first memory, waking up to a nap. You weren’t there.