I heard from another one of us yesterday.
Yet another one of us taking on all his stuff.
Wounded, broken, emotionally bereft. It's him I'm talking about here.
A father who was never there or demanded nothing less than absolute perfection and stoic adherence to his own emotional deprivation.
An anxious or overbearing mother projecting everything onto her son from the issues she never dared address with her husband.
He's a different face but with the same story.
You would think we would have had enough by now, but we're the last ones to give up on something that comes so close to resembling the only love we've ever known.
Not the loving kind, no, the other kind.Continue Reading
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