Vent "poetry" ig, "Parent."

TW: mentions of implied Self Harm and Alcoholism

I am a boy. A man. A guy. But my body says otherwise. My anatomy wants me to be a mother, while my brain wants me to be a father. I'm young, too young, way too young, then why do I even think about this?... oh right, the dreams, and the nightmares, the images in my sleep showing me worlds of families. I close my eyes. I sleep. I'm forced to see light and colors. Back to the same scene. A person I hold dear, and a being I can't recognize. A being so small, so fragile, so innocent. I can't see its face. It feels like a deja vu that shouldn't happen. And I want to take care of the creature. I want to help it like nobody helped me. I want to hear it's laugh. It grows up. I help it grow up. And right there the lights go off. I feel my body. I'm awake. Everything's gone. And I'm too young, way too young, much younger than I remember. And then about that premise I think. A parent. A child. A family. And I want to feel the warmth and the weight and the senses again. I want to take care of it. I want to love it. But I remember, that is not me, that has never been me. I barely shower once every few weeks, I can't wash or brush my own hair, I can't brush my teeth to save my life, I can't fold my own clothes after weeks of them accumulating dust. I can't even feed myself properly. Then who is that dream about? Who is that person who can provide care and love?...

My wrists are painted red. And then I see the mirror. Mom? Is that you?... what did you do this time?... And then I hear a child's desperate cries and sobs. I try to reach them. The blood is too much. I faint. I wake up. It was just a nightmare. I'm hungry. I've been hungry. I remember feeling hungry. My innocent self pulling up his shirt as a child, showing off an esqueletical ribcage for praise. 2010. 4 years old. Mom forgot my breakfast. I learned to cook an egg. Mom showers me. Mom brushes my hair. Mom folds my clothes neatly. Mom forgets my lunch. Mom cleans my room. Mom brushes my teeth. Mom forgets my dinner. Mom mops the floor.Mom drinks from her cans. I can't touch the cans. Mom grabs the razor. I can't touch the razor. Mom locks her door. I can't lock the door. Mom doesn't wake up. Mom forgets my breakfast. Mom forgets to shower me. Mom forgets to clean and brush my hair. Mom wakes up. Mom cries. Mom apologizes. Her arms look like a tiger's. Mom makes lunch, i love her Mac n cheese. Mom drinks from her cans. I can't touch the cans... Mom showers me. Mom apologizes. Mom brushes my hair. Mom apologizes. Mom brushes my teeth. Mom apologizes. Mom apologizes. Mom apologizes. Mom apologizes. Does Mom apologize? How I miss Mom apologizing. She still apologizes, but it's not the same. Would I apologize? A new life. A new creature. I'd look into its eyes. I'd try to take care of it. I wouldn't forget their breakfast. I wouldn't forget their lunch. I wouldn't forget their dinner. The clothes? They are still clean enough. The kid? It's still clean enough. The hair? It's still clean enough. The teeth? Are still clean enough. I wouldn't forget their breakfast. I wouldn't forget their lunch. I wouldn't forget their dinner... but... is the kid okay?... is the kid clean enough?... how clean is clean enough?... I'd apologize. I'd make breakfast. I'd apologize. I'd make lunch. I'd apologize. I'd make dinner. I'd apologize... I'd apologize....The guilt for something that's never happened. The guilt for something that might not happen. The guilt for wanting something I can't protect. The guilt for wanting something I can't comprehend. The guilt for wanting something not made for me. The guilt for wanting something that I could cause harm to. The guilt for wanting something that could cause harm to itself. The guilt for wanting something to repair. The guilt for wanting without real care.