The Girl That Shouldn't Be Here
Into this world I came. Unexpected.
It was my grandpa's worst nightmare.
So bad, he told my mom to never come home pregnant.
And as you so often get what you fear most, thats what happened.
Because of the absence of love she saw no other way then to run away.
The only reason to go back home was, to give birth.
And then he made her stay.
There was no help. Only desparation.
Finally she got to know some people who helped her out.
With her troubled soul she could not recognize those folks had weird believes and their motives where not in the right place eiter.
So there I came. Into this world. Unexpected. And not to be undone.
In contrast to my innocense there was only blame put on my mom.
Instead of celebrating her and the miracle she was performing in creating a child she experienced her life turning into hell even more.
How in all the world did you think I would not be affected by that blame?
How in all the world did you think I would feel welcome when treating my life giver like dirt?
How in all the world?
Adoption came to discussion.
No, my mom was not ready.
Her dad did not take care of her concerns.
The appointment at the office was not made by her.
My mom was sent there, talked into signing a paper that made it clear, we would lose each other.
Everybody was convinced, this was the best for me.
Only she left that place full of doubts and already great regret.
How did no one care about what's best for her too?
How did no one understand that her wellbeing was linked to mine?
There has been so little creativity in all that matter. So little love.
There they where. Adopting a child.
Because christians had to be social. Helping other people.
Obviously it was the best for me. So everybody told themselves.
I needed to be protected. From my own blood.
My mom lost her right to see me when I was four.
The confusion was huge and no one dared to explain.
Only God. He was now very present. Jesus here, Jesus there.
I was scared. But even more I was concerned about hell.
So young and so vulnerable.
How could you think to tell me about your God and all would be beneficial for me?
How could you think I was not aware of your rejection of my mother?
How could you think I would accept your love when you denied it to my mother?
Was it love anyways?
They sent me to sunday school.
Told me about that loving father in heaven.
Why wasn't there a loving father on earth in the first place?
Would that be so hard?
Those morals you had.
How did you think they where any good?
To call a girl in a news story a pig because she got pregnant at age 12.
How dare you! You don't even know her story. And to me this gets personal even if you don't mean to. Don't call me too sensitive. Rather call yourself unloving and stone-hearted. And stop telling me about a loving father in heaven.
How much trouble and fear can a child take?
Yes my school career started off bad.
How could I be interested in education when so much was going on?
And no one even asked me what I thought about all of it.
No one wanted my opinion.
Four year old have no opinion I guess...opinions come when you get a job and move out.
But Hell. Heaven and Hell and God and Jesus. That's stuff four year olds can process.
God loves everyone. He has a plan for everybody. Oh, my life had a purpose.
Just how in all the world could he plan my coming before the foundation of the world if I came the way I should never have come? How can you say something like this, if you put blame on the people who brought me into existance? How can you believe that and at the same time reject my mother?
I would not be here without her. If you don't love my mother, you don't love me.
You don't believe in a loving father in heaven either. Because if you did, you would not find excuses for not loving. So don't expect me to believe something you don't.
To hell with your expectations!
To hell with your hate!
To hell with your ignorance!
To hell with your believe!
To hell with your morals!
To hell with all that keeps you and me from having a relationship.
Something real. Something deep.
To hell with all that keeps love out of the spectrum!
I don't fucking hate you. But I hate the way you treat me. I hate the way you think. I hate the way you think you did your best!
Yes, maybe you did. Maybe that's all you could.
My past is past. I know.
At the same time I deal with it's consequences on a regular base.
The feeling of not being welcome. Not being wanted. Being a mistake.
Not knowing what I want to.
Feeling all alone.
Having trouble to establish healthy relationships. Finding friends.
No, I don't hold on to it.
It holds on to me.
I tried to let it all go.
It keeps coming back.
Drives me crazy soemtimes.
Tears. Lots of tears have been cried and still run down my cheeks.
Stop blaming me.
Stop telling me God heals all the weary.
Stop everything that is not love.
Well, I should not be here.
According to your morals.
According to the way you dealt with my arrival. With my mom.
I came anyways.
You don't have to love me.
Love is not a duty.
And I guess you can't.
That would be fine with me.
If you could just admit it.
If we could just be real.