I don't know why... Or when it started really... Or maybe I do. When I was little I used to say that I never wanted a family of my own. I never wanted kids or a husband/wife. I never really thought about what it would be like to fall in love. In fact if I'm being honest... I didn't believe in nor care for it. Don't take that to think I was a hateful child... Okay well perhaps I was a little, I was both, confused.
My character was kind and caring yet bored with the world around me. I didn't understand what it meant to love someone or what it meant to be loved by someone. I knew what it meant to be nice. Knew that it was polite and respectful to be nice to others. To be supportive and do your best not to bring them down but to cheer them up.
Never often would I think to confront someone about a problem I was having with them.
Not since that day, When I was about 4-5, after I had told one of my foster moms that she was hurting my feelings by yelling at me for something she knew her daughter did.
After I had let those words slip out of my mouth with tears streaming down my face, how heart broken and confused I was. At first my thought was fear to her response but she surprised me with a hug and apologized.
But the next day it happened all over again, I was being yelled at. Punished.
I remember her eyes and the way she looked at me, I remember feeling like she hated me... She yelled, "Don't you DARE say I'm hurting your feelings." Ending with a mocking tone.
How could I cry? How could I be sad? I wanted to be angry at her, respond to her how she was to me but I couldn't. I wouldn't. So I stood there in silence. While I stood there and she yelled at me, my punishment was to be later determined with that she then walked out of the room closing the door behind her and leaving me to be.
Standing there I started to think about everything. How could this be happening?
That night (at the time I was in a home with my younger sister) when our foster mom went to the closet to pull out our blankets and pillows for bed, she pulled out only one pillow and blanket. With a look of what I thought she was trying to portray as sad on her face she said looking at me that somehow my pillow had been lost and that she was sorry, hopefully it would show up.
Laying to bed on the floor in the play room next to my sister I said," It's alright goodnight."
Foster mom turned off the light and closed the door . . .
"Do you want to share my pillow?" My little sister asked but I knew I'd be a pillow hog and I wanted her to have a good sleep so just said I was gonna be okay thank you and went to bed.
The next day I woke up to find my sister had gotten up before me. As I went to get up from the floor I puked everywhere and started crying. I was scared. I was already in trouble. Now what? I thought maybe I could clean it up before anyone saw but it was too late they had already heard me. My sister was the first though the door to see if I was alright then foster moms daughter right behind her.
"Oh no!" My little sister said rushing to hug me, " you're never sleeping without a pillow again!" Without question that too was what I grew to believe, I had gotten sick because I slept without a pillow.
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