When I remember my childhood I remember it being perfect on one hand and the other hand I vaguely remember things that weren’t okay and it’s like these don’t fit together. Probably because a kid doesn’t know right from wrong.. and you’ve got only one family to grow up in so I thought everyone else was brought up this way too.. So now I’m constantly doubting myself. Thinking I make things up or something. That what happened was normal or that I probably deserved it. I see all these happy photo’s but what happened inside me was completely different. No one saw my pain. Was just smiling and pleasing others constantly. Walking on eggshells and trying to avoid any conflict. Instead of exploring who I was. Which leaves me with an under developed sense of self and no self worth.
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“I need a father, I need a mother, I need some older, wiser being to cry to. I talk to God but the sky is empty.”
— Sylvia Plath - Taken From ‘The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath’ February, 1956 (via watchoutforintellect)

