verbal

“You can’t do anything right.”

You’re right. I understood that from a young age; ever since those words came from my mother, they were all I became accustomed to.

I can’t do anything, I know that.

“You’re useless.”

She would say this everyday, building up a mantra in my head. No matter how much I wished it would leave, that it would go away, it would come back at the worst of times.

Reminding me of my failures, of why I’m a horrible child.

“I wish you were like your brother.”

They cut deep, despite my mother thinking they were only baseless and harmless. She just says whatever is on her mind.

She doesn’t care if they impact me or not. She thinks a smack will suffice in subduing me.

“You’re such a loser.”

They think that just because they aren’t touching me, that their words won’t affect me. They do; I can feel each and every one of their phrases crawling under my skin, slithering its way into my mind.

Words have a power to them, one that most people seem to use without knowing.

Words harm.