Generational Curses

I am spilt and poured out like water from a glass tipped over. I want to dissipate into vapor, but it isn’t humid enough. So I lie spilt in a shock on the ground. I cried because she reminded me of myself. I cried because I have spent my life trying to forget what she brought back into my reality. I didn’t want to remember that night in the abandoned building, but as she spoke, the memory passed quickly before my eyes. I turned my face and bowed my head in shame. In the same way that I want to cut off all resemblance of my mother from my life, that's how I feel for her. Don’t be like me--be better, do better, and live better. I could see those generational curses gradually trying to surface. All I could think about was drugs and how badly I wanted to use. I grabbed some pills and popped them, anticipating a depressant to alleviate the emotions I was feeling. There comes a time in the life of every parent when you realize that your hold is loosened and you hope and pray your child doesn’t plummet. I lost my grip tonight, but before I let my daughter hit the ground, I grabbed hold again with my other hand. I refuse to let her make the same mistakes I did. My mother never grabbed me. She let me fall…and that is why I am bruised with old sores that still bleed from time to time.