I come from a broken family. The adjective: dysfunctional is apropos in describing my childhood experience. I don't think my parents meant for our future to be painted as such. In retrospect, our integrated exchange was far better than theirs EVER was...
HOWEVER..................
It still doesn't alleviate the pain, anguish, loneliness and emptiness I've carried with me into my now colorful adulthood.
Outside appearances...I smile and laugh. Put on my brave face. Only the really observant can see that my jaw is tense..and no one knows that I secretly grind my teeth...
On the inside...are burns and sores stemmed from trauma, fear...nights of the lonesome dark where it's not easy to hold the tears at bay and the most cheesiest of romantic comedies has me sobbing like a two year old.
That's where humor and sarcasm come in. They're my best weapons, my greatest armor. It has fooled many people into thinking they've been let inside. Little do they know it's just the waiting room. The real entrance way is locked and hidden...
Tall, structured, steel grey doors command an intimidating roadblock. Spikes and flowers decorate the sides of the opening. And lest we forget my favorite encumbrance: the large, red, fire-breathing dragon standing guard as an additional (and symbolic) precaution.
Dali makes it look so easy....and dreadfully beautiful...
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