A ticking time-bomb is what he was. Ready to unleash hell at the slightest mishap.
He didn’t understand love, faith or caring. Grief and pain confused him.
Incapable of listening and consumed by his anger he’d hurt who I loved and destroy everything I built.
He’d crush my world and leave me to pick up the pieces.
I speak in third person, because he isn’t me.
Anymore, at least.
He used to be me, though. Every once in a while, when darkness pulled over, he’d show up, demolish and leave in exile.
But he didn’t care, he’d come back whenever. The more you’d hate him, the more he’d make sure you’d never forget him.
It was hard living with him, but when I stopped running, he made me listen, and I could forgive him.
I speak in third person, because when I felt his anger, his pain became my pain and we merged in a balance.
There’s evil in good, and good within evil, but when the balance is off, they call it depression.
Husband. Father. Bachelor-student in Social & Legal Services. Recently finished my memoir, called ‘The Lonely Child’, about my experiences with Domestic Violence and Dysthymic Depression and am currently looking for a publisher. On my blog I share poetry, short-stories and flash-fiction in an attempt to pour society’s issues into art. Visit my blog at DaanvandenBergh.com.
