Burdens of the past

So many years have past and my soul is still in turmoil. My mind twisted and confused is a contradiction to the quiet scene outside my window. The moon casts a silver glow on the valley draped in it’s magic glow. The world is bathed in it’s false promise of peace. Such irony. I have always admired the beauty of the desert with my arms wrapped around myself as if to ward off the cold; in complete contradiction to the warmth of the room.

I turn away from the window in disquiet, a deep ache in my chest. The fire burning is the only light. Dancing shadows are cast on the wall give the room an eerie appearance; but, I have always found my peace in the darkness. I have always believed  the darkness shrouds my world for the ugly, nightmares.

I stare at the flames as the memories of my past continue to plague my thoughts. I find it impossible to come to terms with the cruel and unforgiving way of life I was dealt. The brutality I suffered at the hands of a man lost in the amber current of alcohol and self pity.

I realize that I’m incapable of letting go of the baggage that prevents me from a normal life.

My mom died before my second birthday and his family didn’t realize, until it was too late, that he had buried his humanity in the grave with her. He became an empty shell existing in life rather than living it. My terror of the man is wrapped around my life like the tentacles from hell.

We who suffered the same fate never asked to be born. Many nights I cried when there were no more tears, nights when hopelessness, fear and despair caused me to contemplate suicide, but I overcame that weakness; I refused to allow my father’s cruelty make me as weak as he was.