arrested development

I think I relied on the wall. I think my mind reflected it. A blank canvas. Emotionless. Fearless. Wondering what it would be like to look through it. Not daring to look at what the walls are keeping inside. Everything I could imagine on the other side. The world became that I could imagine it to be. To confront reality, I guess I wasn't ready. In middle school, the simplest words would make my face bright red. I couldn't speak to anyone. I didn't know what to say. What was the right thing? The more I wonder why, the more I come to the same conclusion. The will I had was broken down by my parents. They never understood me and vice versa. They held me down, literally and physically. They neglected me emotionally. Their kind words felt hollow. I could tell when they lied but I couldn't tell why. Then I find that my father had other things on his mind. Father. Dad. These words don't make me think of mine. He's a memory, though still alive. I can't hate him because I fear what that will do to him. What does he have left? What hasn't he ruined? I'll only make it worse for him to admit how I feel. I know how that sounds. My mother wasn't much better. Or maybe she was, I don't much remember. She allowed me to go unheard. To feel neglected and unloved. Then she showed her darkest side when I was too young to understand which parent to choose. I didn't understand what happened to my life. I knew questions would only lead to lies and more strife. Her choice to be honest and describe my dad's actions, looking back seemed to be a way to cope with it herself. Or for us to choose her over him. But what happened? My sister and I laughed, and I think a part of me broke. Too young to understand what these goddamn things meant. And I still don't. I can only guess. I guess he never truly grew from his teenage years. She didn't either. In the ways necessary, I get they became parents young.