Jade

child's destruction
2004-03-07 03:29:08 (UTC)

Jade 3

I said that mothers are suppose to protect their children.
Mine was too busy to protect me. Her Jade was not hers. I
belonged to no one now. I was my own mother my own solace
and my own comfort. It was not her fault really. It was my
own. As I said earlier I refused her love. Another person
in life came along and committed violations against my
little body. It was an older child, much older. Supposedly
a baby sitter my father secured when he would take me to
the National Forest. The place where men were supposedly
real men and hunted creatures relentlessly. It was the
child of one of those supposed real men who beat me and
punished me among other things while my father and his
croonies were out slaughtering innocent animals. No one
knew. I was to embarrassed to tell anyone about it. Plus,
I thought to myself what cruel fate had brought me to
this? Was I supposed to die that day when the snake could
have bitten my mother? Am I supposed to feel all this pain
and anguish so that I can learn from it and push on in
life perhaps to nobly help someone else out there in the
world? I still cannot answer that question after all these
years. It was a female this time. I was trying to learn to
play the recorder, an evil phallic looking object. If I
did not play it perfectly then she would hit me. Why? I
wish I knew. Perhaps, at least I like to think, she was
hurt too and this was all that she knew to do to a child.
Just maybe it wasn't her fault. I had to explain it away
somehow in order to survive. I soon learned to hate winter
and the trips into the forest hunting camp. Finally, after
a few years she got married and went away and I was no
longer tormented by her. My recorder didn't seem so scary
now. I never spoke of the first person who really damaged
my little mind into the petrified little girl I had
become. I wish I could write it here for you to understand
what is was that was more damaging. The first time is the
worst. Once a person has become used to bad treatment I
guess one learns to put up with it and remain silent. The
silence is more damaging than anything else. I cannot
speak of it even behind anonymity. These situations I
always found myself in caused me to question my strength
of character and personality even as a child. How could I
be strong when everyone was trying so hard to turn me into
a quivering pile of frightened flesh? That is when I
learned to be strong. I learned to hide my emotions and
wear the mask I still wear. The mask of strength, valor,
honor, and power. No one could make me cry. No one could
break me any more, do what they will, and they did, I
shall never let them have my heart, nor take my soul. I
took power over that now. Who was God? A man? A spirit? I
often wondered where he was when they were hurting me. I
still wonder even now when I have been safe the last 11
years. How did I survive? How did I live so long here, in
the normal world?




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