I Understand About Not Being Selfish

Renita Kalhorn

I don’t know how long I can continue to live with the swearing several hours in a row with hardly a break until another set of hours of cursing begins.

I understand about not being selfish.

I think of you so I stay.

I look into your black shining eyes, though, and (I know it’s too much for your young little body too keep inside)I hope you feel that the longer I remain living an undignified life with such phrases cruelly dancing around me: ‘Kill yourself!’ ‘Every penny you make is mine, you’re nobody!’ ‘You’re why I can’t make any money!’ ‘Mother f***er!’

‘I understand about not being selfish’ is my response to my father advising me to stay and help that man.

‘That man is sick and just needs love; he’d be much worse if I left’ is what my father says a lot.

I don’t sleep well.

I also feel bad when I tell myself that I’d only feel better the day that he’s finally dead.

I wish I were brave.

I’d love to care for you without his screaming at me, throwing some of the meals I cook for him in the trash, kicking my legs, telling me they’re too fat, ordering me to do chores after working long shifts, smiling evil at me while sitting in his armchair, watching me at times.