Sometimes, the quick rage and barely veiled hurt that I see in you already, seems
to mirror the internal bubbling that I could not label when I was half a decade older than you are now.
Hearing you wail as the tears refuse to surface, reminds
me of every single time I wanted nothing but to scream until I was heard.
I tried so hard to drown, contain, bind, and cut out my demons, not
having anyone who understood or knew the raw emotions that I struggled to soothe.
Will my past be enough, can it be the knowledge I need, to
understand and help you through all of this, to help you thrive?
Will my demons turn maternal and seek to calm yours?
