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Sociopathic Daughter

Ariadne Wolf

    I wish my mother was dead.
    Don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m saying, because I do. Don’t tell me I’m being selfish, or oversensitive, or too clever for my own good. I know all these things are true. Guess what? I don’t care.
    If tomorrow I was permitted one day in which to do all the violence I have ever desired, I would start with my mother. I would hang her up by the thumbs and I would rip chunks of her hair out by the roots. I would sing her lullabies while I ripped off her fingernails, one by one.
    Sometimes like tonight I cannot sleep. On these nights I see images of my mother’s blood flash before my eyes and I wonder if I should be ashamed, but I am not. Instead I am furious and mostly I am bloodthirsty, I am hungry for the taste of my mother’s life blood beneath my tongue. Coating my lips while I sink my teeth into her jugular, again and again.
    When I was a child I thought I was a sociopath. When I was a child the only thing I cared about was making my mother happy and this became the basis for what she called “my personality.” I became a child who dwells in dark corners, who hangs back from the fun. Who is perennially afraid of pleasure and who views her life as something over before it has begun.
    When I was a child I daydreamed about murdering my mother in her sleep, and wondered what was wrong with me. When I was a child I thought everything that was wrong in this most fundamental of relationships, was me.
    I was just a child. I didn’t know anything.
    Now I am older and I live with my mother and her husband who is also my father and also my rapist. I am drawn back inexorably every time I try to leave because there is some part of me that only ever feels safe here. There is some part of me that feels like this is the only place that I will ever truly belong. This is the part of me that wants to stab my parents in their sleep, to this day.
    This is the part of me that knows their blood is the only thing that will ever wash my hands clean again.
    Except now I know that I am not the sinner here. I was a child and being a child is not a sin. Being vulnerable to your parents is not a sin. They are supposed to be the adults in the situation. They are supposed to protect their children. If they fail in their duty, then the child will grow up with rage coursing through our veins where love should have been.
    I am the personality that grew up around the empty space where love should have been.
    I am bloodthirsty and I am a would-be murderess but I am a sociopath no more. I am not the person who destroyed others’ lives for my own enjoyment, but I have been destroying my own life for no good reason. I have been taking revenge against myself so no one would know how badly I want to hurt my mother. How badly I want to murder her the way she murdered the years of my life that are lost to me, forever.
    Scars fade with time, but rage remains the same.
    Rage bleeds on inside of me, still I declare today to be the dawning of a brand new day. My mother is gone from my bloodstream, and gone for good. I need her no more. I long for her no more. The empty space inside of me is at least empty of her poison, and this is something to be grateful for. Grateful is what I will try to be.
    You may perhaps believe I am a sociopathic daughter, because only that daughter would do something like this. Only a villain would tell the truth, if the truth was this ugly.
    By this definition yes, I am a sociopathic daughter, but I am not the villain of this story. I refuse to wait for the world to see that the victim is not equivalent to the perpetrator, that a child cannot seduce a grown man. I refuse to wait for the world to deliver justice. I will seek out justice in my own way.
    There will be blood but it will not be literal blood. Death is too good for some people. Even blood fades in time.
    Justice is the purest form of rage there ever was. Justice is a rage done proper. Justice never fades.
    Justice is the shadow’s way of mending the spirit back onto the body. Of shattering the gilded cage and banishing limitations.
    Justice will set me free. All I must do is learn to tell the truth, proudly and without fear. All I need to do is remember how to be a person again.
    All I need to do is re-member me.

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