endless

i don’t care how bad it could’ve been because it was worse for someone who went through it. the cycle of abuse never ends, whether it is physical or emotional. it all finds it’s way back to you at 4am when your head hurts from staying up for the last two days because the anxiety of not doing something when you had thousands piling up for you hits and you realise it doesn’t really matter because your mom didn’t care if you got 50 or 80 unless you were one of the people who worked at google at eighteen or that one time when you told her you were going to be rich enough to buy her everything she wants and her first concern was who would marry you if you actually did. it never ends because your mom slept in the safety of her home with dreams of her own and the moment she woke up, her parents had strangers waiting in the living room to take her dreams and make them feel too big for someone now taking care of a child she didn’t ask for. it never ends because your grandmother ran away with her love and that love broke her trust. because she stayed quiet and endured years of abuse only to end up using her kids and their wives to feel control of her life she’d lost years ago.

who do they think of before they sleep? do their dreams still sit in the pit of their stomachs as their hands feed others? when was the last time they felt loved? was it ever enough? would you break the cycle at the cost of their lives or be miserable and hand them the knives?

-diaa