Their Love Was Merely Medicine

One day they will understand.

They will know why I stayed in my room,

and why I tugged on my long sleeves in the spring.

I was raised in a home where mental illness was a plague

that would never reach our beloved walls.

I was told that our unconditional love was good enough,

that others had it worse,

that there was no reason for me to feel so sad.

I loved my parents so much in spite of their blindness

that I kept my pain a secret.

And they might understand why I am sensitive or anxious

or why I cry too much.

But they will never know

that I used to think about my dad being empty-handed down the aisle.

They can never understand that their loving daughter

used to dread the morning smell of mom’s breakfast

because it reminded her that another painful day was about to begin.

And so as I continue to grow and get better,

maybe one day they will hear me and finally

understand my mental health.

But honestly, how can they understand

that their “love” was merely medicine

and not a vaccine for my plague?


by natiduron

Natalia Duron is a mixed media writer, and has been writing since she was 12 years old. Writing and journaling are her favorite outlets for expression, and most her work is centered around individuality and personal growth. Through hardships and achievements, Natalia's work is all about having hope no mater how difficult the journey is.

Natalia is a college student attending UGA. She has a major in Journalism, and a minor in Film Studies and Communication studies. She aspires to work as a writer in a journalism or film field. Through practice and feedback, Natalia wants to perfect her work to become the writer she has always dreamed of being.

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