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literature

His Monster-Emotional Piece

Muzica-chan's avatar
By Muzica-chan   |   Watch
2 3 286 (1 Today)
Published: January 12, 2012
This December
I finally saw my father
For the first time in three years
Some of you
You've got to be asking
"How? Hasn't he always been here?"
I can't say

Sometimes it is only his face
Other times it is my father
Watching over me
I don't always know

Is it him or his monster?
Has the angry drunk come back
Overshadowing the hopeless romantic?

Maybe this is
Could just be my way of coping
Simply disassociating this constant rage
Possibly nothing
Since he functions without meds
He obviously isn't sick enough to cage
I can't say

It's just not his gaze
My father doesn't judge me
He believes in me
But I don't always know

Will I meet his monster or find my father?
Can the care giver really ever come back
Or is this just another part in the sadist's act

This December
I saw my father
For the first time in three years
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© 2012 - 2019 Muzica-chan
Around the same time my parents were getting divorced, my father was diagnosed schizophrenic and bi polar, though I can't remember which type. For those of you who have never dealt with someone that is either: when he is happy, he stays happy. When he is angry, he never gets better. For the best three years, he has been angry. I can't imagine what has him so pissed off, and maybe it is stupid, but I blame myself.

For me, this has never been easy. My father used it as an excuse to be an ass. He knew that as long as it wasn't him, we would understand, and we do understand. However, he also doesn't bother trying to do anything about it. He doesn't realize that he isn't under control. He hurts me and everyone in this house with his words on a regular basis.

This December, for the first time in three years, I actually looked into his face and saw the man that had raised me, caught me when I stumbled, and let me stay up with him all night when I was a toddler because he worked.

I just pray he realizes how much I and everyone else in our family loves him.

This isn't a "boohoo, my life is so hard, whawhawah" piece. Or, it isn't meant to be. I only recently have been able to share this with people, because it hurts to even think that it is possible never to see the man that raised me.
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The Third Sibling
I don’t know why I assumed it would be a boy. Intuition, maybe. Or perhaps, little brothers were all I knew. My third sibling paused in the first trimester and never hit play: a frozen picture on the ultrasound. Mom came home, stole to bed, and shut the door with a clack soft as thunder. My third sibling is a silence, forgotten outside the quiet moments alone, when I wonder what his name was.
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He tied piano strings to his heart, so that every time it beat it didn't sound so empty inside. But the music in his heart couldn’t permeate the hollow air as the metronome kept time for the clock. One, two. One, two. Reedy notes plummeted from his lips as he made me pluck out Tchaikovsky and Bach when all I wanted to play was twinkletwinklelittlestar. "I'm just a little girl." My fingers tripped and stumbled and I know that I could never play as well as he needed me to; I could never keep his notes from slipping off the page. White and black sideswiped my fingers, as I struck one chord too many. "I've always wanted to
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Don’t recognize your child’s needs, or at the very least see them as secondary to your own. Ignore your child’s tears; tell them to buck up. Better yet, tell them if they don’t stop crying you’ll give them something to cry about. That outta teach ’em. Weigh them down with adult demands. Expect them to cook dinner at nine years old because you’ll be home late. Force them to grow up too fast, or don’t allow them to grow up at all because in a child’s dependent role is where you can control them. Don’t be consistent, with anything. Change your values like you change your sex partners
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MelancholicDrips's avatar
MelancholicDripsStudent General Artist
:heart:
I don't think I can find any words to express... :aww:

Beautiful. Bittersweet, but beautiful... and so very profound. :aww::hug:
mgless's avatar
aaawwwww. Schizophrenia and bipolar should never be mixed. My mom was abusive. But she also had like multipersonality disorder and a bunch of other mental f'd up stuff. It sucks.
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