~Let me hurt. It's my right.

Well, at least I got started... there's more, of course, but getting started is the hard part. I feel like I'm leaving so much out in writing here... details... It's tough to keep pushing myself... to keep reading, to keep forcing myself to look at it as an adult... to step back as my 34 year old self and see the 15 year old. It makes me angry with them. Very angry. I'm even angrier, though, about the fact that not only were they very rarely there for me then, but that never changed. They're not now. My mother is an ill, selfish woman who cares only for herself. Art, my "father" is also selfish and heartless. He lives in Israel today. He's never even seen his 6 year old grandchild, and didn't attend his daughter's wedding. It was always about them... and it still is. One day, maybe it won't hurt as much.