† Roshan Gurmeet Singh
I do not no.
The seed of betrayal may grow into a tree of venom.
I do not know.
My mom will call me occasionally when I was living there especially, during the earlier years.
I can empathise with her perspective, however, I think she could have done better.
She had unhealed trauma, as many of us do, including myself.
Unhealed trauma if left unacknowledged, it may become something dark like the desensitization of intimacy, and also ferment into a disease. Therefore, shadow work, and balance, is a start.
Just to keep it transparent, my mom was not a habitual smoker or drinker.
Though for those, who have a lower PH diet, it is highly probable, that it will turn inflammatory.
My mom, was loud and boisterous. She had a great sense of acuity about people. I write the ongoing sentence with as much awareness as I can: a woman only becomes extremely masculine, because she was forced to defend herself frequently, mentally or physically.
From what I know, they, my grandmother and my mom, had a relationship similar to sparks and embers.
The bitterness seems to have stemed from either the migrations or the wars. I think, that every instance where the land gets drenched with blood, the energy repels.
There are cases where the inclination of possessions and mental infections is higher amongst populations that are closer to places where they do bad things to animals.
Generally, in an expansive, grassy plateau, surrounded by peaked tundras and the auditorial caress of Nature, whose tributaries fosters crops to grow food that jumps from the ground.
Perhaps there are klrystal architecture. There isknow emerald Sun.
Who wants to leave their homeland?
My maternal grandma is traditional and old school. My mom was traditional and progressive. It is quite the conundrum, though she did what needed to be done effortlessly, took care of herself and others with tremendous self respect.
Even though, I did not technically grow up with her, there was something extremely gentle about her. She would buy food for strangers with a huge smile on her face, that will heartily lighten up the building, without expecting anything in return.
She had severe self doubts.
I have wondered if the constant exposure to the acidulous system, is there a unconscious transactional effect on the mind and the body?
She was a great person, and if she was taken care well, guided by people who wanted her for her beauty and grace, she would be even more zealous, rather than to hurt her scourgingly, by saying that she is a walking ATM as her own sibling, vilely burst out at her once.
She carried that for decades.
She is the same person who gifted him his graduation from the regiments of consumerism, yet on several occasions he, arranged a coup against her, by wanting to arrange her staff against her and vice versa.
Legally and.
The first night, I stayed in his place as a teenager, the bed arranged by him for that room was for the pets.
They were all financially exorbitantly taken care of, despite, before and after.
Then, with all that flow of wealth, and constant screeches of the withdrawals of self worth, that is unhealthily cultivated from home, people are just going to be what they do. Use and abuse.
Whatever happened in the boomer generation, it seems that it did something bad to the people before and after.
It took me quite a while, to learn that the insanity was not a norm.
There were days, I would wake up to an empty house and watch animation at around 9 in the morning. Nobody was around.
Those were some of the best, empty, free, memories I have now.
I just want that and of course, to express myself with art.
I know what happen, though, I do not know what is happening, nor will I condone anything horrible.
No.
I am not going to cut myself.
Why are you journaling? What's the use? She did try to teach me the alphabet when I was very young.
Do this, do that. Hanger. Do this again. Rotan.
Who is this, why do you want to speak to him? Do not call here again.
Why did you come back late?
Who did you see?
What did you do?
Did you do this, that? Fold the clothes. Clean the bathroom.
Play soccer now.
She had the fucking audacity to say that my mother pays money for me to stay there.
Cunt. Whore. Bitch. Ugly.
Naa unee pakeeraaan.
YOU ARE FUCKERS!
A loave of bread was inked with tears and blood.