People comment on my beauty, but if they only knew how ugly I felt inside. If only they could see the pain and the headache. If only they can see the anger, the hurt. Unfortunately, no one sees me. No one hears me. I am standing in a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs and no one even knows I exist. I am invisible. Have I made myself invisible?
Break the Chains... Be Free...
I have spent three days trying to write about my father. Why him? Well, because I am working on becoming a better me, loving myself more, and my deeply rooted issues with my father have everything to do with that. I cannot move forward until I deal with it, with him. I cannot learn to breathe and love and live again until I have given life to truth and by speaking it and death to pain by forgiving. Until I do so I will forever be a prisoner of my past hurt, watching people live and love through these prison bars. I don't believe fathers really understand the affect their presence, or lack thereof, has on their children. More importantly I don't believe they know the effect it has on their daughters. Some of a father's main goals as a parent are: being an example of how a man is supposed to carry himself, showing what a healthy relationship between a man and a woman looks like, and ultimately showing his daughter the love she deserves, should expect, and demand from a...
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