I feel like I have always been old. I dont have one memory of being a child. Even when I was four, I felt the same way I feel now. They say you meet the world once, when you are a child, and the rest is always a memory.
But what does that mean to people who were born old? Punked by some universal woodoo, mumbo-jumbo, trick or treat, Benjamin Button bullshit?
What did the world look like to me when I was of little earthly age? The first thing I remember when I look so far back is sitting on my uncles lap and singing songs while tapping hands. I remember him taking me to his football games. He would always hide me behind the goal, so if the ball comes, the net will protect me. And I would sit there all the time, watching football like it were Teletubbies. He would always carry me on his shoulders. We held hands upfront. And the next chronological memory is when I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him putting his jacket on. I asked where he was going, he said to the store and I should go back to sleep. He didnt come back. He didnt die or anything. But he left to Germany to see his new-born daughter. It was during the war and his wife left to have the baby in Germany. But I didnt know. He didnt tell me. No one told me. I dont know how long I was waiting for him to come back before I realized on my own that he wont. And I was alone in my wait. I was always with him. I think my parents never took me back after he adopted me. And I didnt even see them as parents. My uncle was all I had. I have been told many times that I look for my dad in the men I date. But that couldnt be farther from the truth. I am looking for my uncle between 1991-1994. But thats also something I hid for years on end. Not from other people. From myself. Thats why people usually dont express their wishes out loud; a wish never uttered is easier to get over, than the one uttered, other people heard and neglected. So when my uncle disappeared, I didnt know... How to interact with other people. I didnt even want to. I didnt need them. Ever. And I kept not needing them. But I really just didnt know how to even speak to other people. And other people didnt know how to speak to me. More often than not, I didnt even let them. But that wasnt on me. I was a child. They should have known better. Tried better.
I grew up completely alone. No one knew the tears I shed that one night where I couldn't find my bunny. I didnt feel like I could wake my parents up and ask them to help me find it, because they would tell me to stop overreacting, go back to bed and shut up. Grow up (but im already older than you). No one knew how sad I was when my dad jokes about selling the house. He didnt know I believed him. No one told me we were just renting. And since I didnt know how to speak, I never asked. I never doubted him. No one knows how heartbroken my little heart was when I took the bus to go help my mom clean the church, and she sent me home, telling me she doesnt need me really. There were enough people. I remember being beaten up for playing in the rain, being beaten up for standing up for myself, being beaten up for being curious. I remember my grandma stealing my brand new barbie to send to her other granddaughter (my uncles daughter). I remember calling my dad once crying to pick me up from school because two older boys were verbally bullying me, only for him to tell me to toughen up and not overreact. On the way back home in the car I was thinking "did i explain that to him properly, maybe if I cried while telling him, he would have believed me". And I didnt know how to speak so, I never told them. I always had to keep my mouth shut. When youre being shushed, diminished, called overdramatic, overemotional and over-what-not, you kinda learn to keep your mouth shut. But what you also learn is to always doubt whatever you are feeling.
And you can make up all sorts of excuses for your parents. But I was a child. I needed a dad. I needed a mom. A grandma. And I didnt have them. They were happy my uncle took me and when he left, they didnt know what to do with me. And neither did I. As the matter of fact, I still dont.
I even doubt those memories of my uncle leaving. No one believed me that I remember that night. And I actually still dont know if I made all that up. But, I feel like if I did make it up, I would have made up a better goodbye.
I will always wonder what kind of a person I would have turned out to be, if my uncle never left. I would have never been beaten up, he would have found my bunny immediately, I wouldn't be scared to wake him up, his stupid daughter would have never existed so my grandma wouldnt have the reason to steal my barbie, I never would have left to that church probably and he definitely would have picked me up from school and calmed me down.
So I guess its true what they say. About your life being just memories. But then what the fuck do I have to look forward to; being abandonded without a single barbie to my name? The only thing worse than being abandonded by your favourite person is when it happens again.
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