Chapter 4

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January 5, 2014

Here I am again scribbling in this book, I guess I'm supposed to write about fear. How fear dominates us, commands us and conducts our lifestyle like an Orchestra.

Fear is a player in all lives, it's not a fair player. It's always cheating, everytime you think you're safe it's right around the corner. Hoping to get into your head and make you give in.

Once fear has its claws in you there is no letting go, you have to break from fears hold. Fear will not let go easily, fear will learn your every weakness. But just like you, fear wants to win this game. If you do break free, you will not completely be free.

There will always be that part of you that misses the fear, that will want to depend on it but you can not.

In the end, you will realize that you are the one holding onto fear because after it uses you up and knows it has you. It will to leave and just has it had planned you hope fear will never leave.

Hoping fear will stay because you want it as much as it wanted you.

You hold onto fear because you are afraid that you are nothing without it, you no longer know what you are without fear.

You will never be the same, after leaving you high and dry fear knows you will come crawling back. Now that it has cut into you, hurt you, drove you insane, you are nothing more.

This is where fear comes up with a new game just you and it. Keeping you up all night worried that this game might just kill you. Make you question your life, sanity and all the choices you have made up to this point.

In fears new game it will always change the rules and add what it sees fit to keep you where you are, there will never be an end to fears game.

You will learn that you never were free from fear since before you were born fear knew about you fear waited for you. Fear waits for all of us.

February 25, 2014

Do you remember when there used to be guidelines? What happened to those guidelines? Who took them away? I don't think my life should be this hard, this early. I'm only third teen, I've killed seven women, been arrested once, been to court twice still have to go back. I have had multiple psychological evaluations and I'm not allowed to leave the house.
   
March 12, 2014

I hate when they say I look like her, I hate when she says I acted like her. Well, guess what I am not her. I am; me just because I have half of her in me doesn't mean I'm her. I wish they could see that, I will never be like her, I will never let a man walk all over me, beat me half to death almost every day.

April 18, 2014

I am broken before they could get to me, I found an adhesive to hold me together before they could fix me, I threw myself away before they could play with me. I tried to hide but they always find me, I don't like dirt but its the only thing that clings to me why do they wash it away.

May 23, 2014

I think I'm this way because I never let anything heal. When I was younger I would pick my scabs, watch them bleed, every time there was a new one I just had to pick it, mother would yell and said "if you don't leave that alone you'll get an infection", of course, one did get infected it was green and smelled weird. Father was not happy, he beat Mother he wouldn't let her clean any of her cuts said "You let my baby get an infection you live with one too", that put Mother in the hospital for 3 weeks, I stopped picking my scabs. Too bad there are no doctors to help heal me the way they can heal Mother.

July 5, 2014

It's mother's birthday, I'm not positive how old she is. Dad says we are not to celebrate her birthday but this year he wants to go out, tonight is about mother. He has also asked me to stop calling them by something so formal in public we need to keep the appearance of a happy family. Tonight we dress up, play family, smile, laugh and act as if we love each other.
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I sat in their room as my mom got dress, she wore a red dress that went all the way down to the floor, the skirt of the dress hugged her waist giving her more shape, there was a slit in the skirt a louding her to move freely. The top was spaghetti straps, it didn't hug her body the way the skirt did but the top complemented her in a way I've never seen. After she put makeup on I almost forgot why she needs it, the yellow bruises under her eye had not yet healed. Beneath it all my mother was a beautiful woman but father has created an ugly mess- afraid of her shadow, from her dark brown eyes to her strawberry kissed hair to her freckles that now hide, I see them once in a while but never too long, her pale competition look as the sun had never touched it. She always looked small and fragile but tonight in her dress she looked like a goddess, a powerful beautiful goddess. She must have looked gorgeous in her younger years if the men didn't throw themselves at her feet they must be blind. I can see how father fell in love when he first laid eyes on her, her smile alone made the sun blind when it beaned down on her. I never understood how father could hurt her maybe he doesn't want to share her beauty with the world, I don't want to either, she's my mom. I found an old note I wrote her it's barely eligible but it says, "You're the one who gave me life while yours is dying. You help heal my wounds while he gave you news and never let the old ones leave you" I can now see how aware I was about my mother's life with my father.

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