when the underbelly of your house is lined with landmines, you learn to be comfortable with the instability. you get used to the unpredictability.
you learn to tread lightly,
to talk softly,
when to cover your ears,
how to shelter yourself from the blasts.
you learn it is never enough
to lock yourself in the bathroom,
to tug at your hair until your scalp aches,
to smile,
to not talk about it to anybody,
to always hold each of their arms with a different hand. you never stop trying.
you never learn that it is not your fault,
that you cannot piece what is broken back together, that anger is not the default.
you begin to think sadness is.
you learn emptiness.
you wish someone would have peeled back the flooring, plucked out each landmine one by one,
because that was not your job,
because you were 8 years old.
because you never stopped trying.
because eventually someone always stepped on one. because you cannot run faster than an explosion. because 8 years is a long time to run,
and because still,
even if you need to sleep in the wreckage,
where else is there to go?
and so you always come back
home.
- 8 years
Samantha De Luca-Baratta is a writer and aspiring filmmaker from Montreal. She is currently in Film Studies at Concordia University. She is passionate about social justice and loves everything pink and heart shaped. She hopes to find healing through her art.