Trauma Memory

Im ashamed to say that I’m envious of the previous submissions for being able to recall their childhood. How sick of me to be jealous of the traumatic experiences of others. My memory escapes me when I crave them most. To feel the sharp sting of scrapping my knee as a child, or the warm hug of a loved one are memories I wish I could return to. When I go back to my childhood home I’m flooded with the faces of strangers that supposedly raised me and a language that my tongue was once accustomed to but now cannot grasp. It is a curse placed on my mind to protect me. I am grateful for the trauma that I have escaped but morn the beauty built between the lines of my childhood. Being raised in poverty by my grandparents in the Philippines, I don’t want to seem blind to the privileges I have now. This disassociation with my past has been a hole in my being since I can remember. Even my own mother and father were strangers to me as a child. I want to remember with all my heart the people that took care of me but those memories will be lost forever.