I don’t believe in family anymore.
Mother would kill me if she heard me say something like that. But I can’t believe. Not anymore. Not now. Not ever again. How could I possibly after this? I can’t blindly keep believing in second chances. Maybe I still believe in them, but we’re far beyond second chances now. It must be the hundredth by now, and I’m done. It’s not that I don’t love her anymore; of course I do. But I can’t believe this will work out. Her and us–it’s just not possible. It can’t be. This can’t be what family is.
I can’t believe.
Maybe some families are whole. Maybe some brothers and sisters are happy and healthy. But that’s not us. I don’t have hope for us anymore. Isn’t it time we stopped hoping? Isn’t it time we stopped deceiving people? Isn’t it time we stopped getting all our hopes up, just to watch them get dashed?
Father always told me about him. He said he hated family, and every time a family was forged, he would do everything in his power to ruin it. I cannot believe that anymore either. He does not hate everyone, he only hates us. We are the only ones he ever attacks. We are the only family who suffers.
I won’t believe.