The inner child


According to some psychologists writing with your non-writing hand can trigger early memories, or at least make you feel like a child again. In a state of frustration a few weeks ago I tried to initiate some childhood recall. It did not work out as I had thought but it did take me back to a very vulnerable emotional place where I was not preoccupied with adult worries. I spoke to my father:


You are my sunshine

I don’t like when you

shout at me

I don’t like when you

are naked

I don’t like when you

know what I’m




I don’t want to tell you everything

I want to go out

I want to feel safe inside

I want to play

without having to entertain you

step around your eggshells

or obey any stupid rules

You make me hurt

You make me confused

You make me sick

to take care of me

To confuse me more

You are making me want to wretch

Vomit you out

Get out

How does love hurt so much?

Why do I have to obey to have you?

Why these contradictions?

They don’t make sense

I thought love was there

no matter who I am


no matter who you are

You are the parent


I am a person

I am not part of you

Not an extension of you

Narcissistic shite

You fooled me

You didn’t love

Anything or


Just guilt

I see who you are

I know

You told me

your secret

Now I am big

I can flee

and see clearly