Gasworks Park 1980, 11

This is a picture of a very said little girl.  The total devastation and utter sadness I see in my eyes. The look on my face is of that split second when I'm teetering on the edge of crying, trying to master my emotions. This is an expression of worry. I can only guess that I was worried I'd have to go back to my mom's house and to her boyfriend - on that same note, that my dad didn't want me for longer than a weekend. It's in this era of my life that I disconnected and retreated into my head. It's in this era of my life that I learned that actually, literally no one cared what I was thinking or how I felt and that those things didn't matter, at all. It's in this era that I learned that talking about those things led to being yelled at and sent to my room or to the car to sit it out alone, it was just better to not talk at all, I'd at least get to be with people even if I didn't like them or they didn't like me and it really seamed that they didn't.

I'm sure the things I had to talk about were utterly embarrassing for them, I'm pretty sure I was a straight shooter then too.  Or maybe it's when I learned to be a straight shooter, making my statements short and quick. I can assure you nobody was having conversations with me. 

It's in this era of my life that I learned how to cope.


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