caerula's Diaryland Diary

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hate

I hate hate hate those people. The Dementors. People who can emotionally blackmail a 7 year old don't deserve to live. I really very rarely actually hate people; I give people the benefit of the doubt, usually for far too long. But those people are just horrible.

YB came home from his weekend with them tonight terribly upset. They made such a fuss over him at pickup, crying and waving and telling him how much they'll miss him, that by the time he got in the car he was near tears. And of course he said that nothing was wrong; he still won't talk about any of it to us. He gets all quiet and says "no," "nothing," and "ok" if you ever try to talk about it. He loves them, of course he does, and that is what makes it so damn hard. We can't tell him not to love people, they are his family and always will be; but so are we and they tell him that we aren't. They feed him so much crap; I know we don't know the half of it and probably never will, because how could we ask? And who knows what damage it has done already? Poor kid said to me tonight that he just wants to be normal. He will _never_ be normal, he is so bright, and loving and affectionate, and creative, and none of that is "normal." I wouldn't want him to be. But he is so torn. A 7 year old shouldn't even have to worry about not being normal, let alone about who loves him most and who he loves most, and whether the things he says make people upset, and thinking that he is the only one who can make his grandparents happy, because they are so sad when he is gone. His shoulders are so skinny. Not strong enough to take on all those things, and carry them around all the time. And the worst part for me is knowing I can't help him, I can't fix things for him. I'll never be his mom, ever, and I might never have the chance to be anyone else's.

10:10 p.m. - 2001-06-03

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