I Struggle with My Family's Toxic Love and Its Painful
The story
they never knew , least of all my mother . they couldnt fathom that their affection didnt warm me . it colonized me . every embrace was a swarm of insects masquerading as tenderness , a slick , suffocating presence clinging to my skin tht no amount of scrubbing could wash away . they called it love . to me , it was a rot , a foreign parasite tht had mistake my living body for a corpse to settle in . n the truly sickening part ? how quietly i learned to let it feed .
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Points of view
"no amount of scrubbing" is the part that worries me, because if youre actually hurting your skin trying to remove that feeling, tell someone you trust now. the parasite imagery is vivid, but it also buries what your mother concretely did, and naming that plainly might help more than making yourself sound already dead.