Pure

I’m doing my thing. I’m trying to figure it all out, put the pieces of the puzzle in some order, trying to lay them all out, a cards on the table kinda thing. That thing, that’s the thing I’m doing.

I went back. I didn’t want to. I’ve spent almost the entire majority of my life refusing to revisit that time. But I did. I had to. They made it a thing, so a thing it will be. I grew up in a different time, a different world. Everything seemed foreign to me as if I didn’t quite belong. I remember being dressed like a pilgrim. I could have stepped off the screen from Little House on the Prairie, always in lace and frills. Preserved.

It was the 80’s, bright colors, bangles and Madonna. But not for me, my eighties were a world a way from anything being shown on MTV. I remember feeling trapped and desperately uninterested in life at all. Such strange thoughts for a child of twelve.

“Don’t tell anybody that I like you okay?, I’ll get in a lot of trouble” A voice I recall…

Such strange thoughts for a nine year old.

I heard the word “pure” often and I remember feeling like that word would never apply to me, that anyone who wanted me would already be at a deficit, so I would have to work twice as hard. And that was drilled into me at relentless intervals…that no one would ever want me if i didn’t know how to make them happy and happy meant accepting abuse and I’ve just come to the realization that I was conditioned. I was conditioned like a lab animal and that is a very hard realization to come by.

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