I fear.

My heart fears. It fears as it doesn’t feel safe. I’m further scared by the thought that, the people who i could possibly seek for help here, may hurt my heart by ignoring this fear of mine, which is real; and important that i be present with it. I see this place as one where hope and happiness has passed. It’s scary. This is how i would describe hell. I feel scared to be with my parent’s. It feels like a ticking bomb, will it be this minute or the next, the minute where a fight breaks between the both that would send my heart screaming for help. Why? When they fight i feel they show that hate toward me. I feel stressed to be under such pressure, to keep my guard up.

My mind can deal when they fight or have an argument, but my heart is delicate. I feel i am around hearts that have been beaten to death; and such a sight to my delicate heart is pure evil. It pulls the corners of my lips down. I cannot be myself around them. The gloominess that appears on their faces wants me to fast forward time to a moment where i can see a smile, like thirsting for air while underwater. The gloominess appears permanent to my heart. I do not recollect any moment where they have smiled from their heart’s for a simple thing; while i smile at simple things. I am scared.

The tone of their speech. Another stake to my heart. I feel doomed, that i will never again see a smile from another human while conversing. I feel there is no politeness. Their speech seems rude to me. They speak with an idea to win and triumph over that win—“No”, a most heard response to my suggestions—. I want to feel a warm embrace, just to know that love exists still and to know my heart will not be killed.