amoralfictionalism:

Aura’s family was dirt poor; she was born in a one room shack. The only toy she ever owned, was really a spare block of wood — that eventually had to be burned, when the family was cold. She was the middle child, from a family of ten… which meant that her parents worried more about her older and younger siblings. Aura was often the one, who had to go the most, without.

Her father was a mean drunk, who spent most of his time chasing women… but he never left them. He was proud of his sons, and praised his daughters for their beauty… except for Aura.

Her mother was a spit-fire. Unable to keep her husband in line, she took her aggression out on her children… but she worked her hands to the bone, to keep them fed. She coddled her sons, and spoiled her daughters… except for Aura. 

Despite only being a child herself, she was expected to serve her elder siblings, and take care of her younger ones. When she failed at her duties, she was serverely disciplined. Her father cracked her skull open twice — once by pushing her down a flight of stairs. 

Love became defined by the number of resources allotted for survival. So, at an early age, Aura decided that she would do whatever was required, to never have to go without; that somehow this would guarantee her happiness. She wasn’t the smartest girl, but she was ambitious and resourceful. She worked herself ragged, and was able to afford all of the luxuries, that she had wanted as a child. But she never attained what she really needed…

I don’t know if Aura’s father ever told her that he loved her before he died. 

When Aura’s mother was dying of cervical cancer, the old woman finally admitted that she had never cared for her daughter. There was something strange about Aura, that her mother had found unsettling. Aura was told that she thought too much like a man; no woman should have been so ambitious. Aura was different, and that scared her mother. 

It was not until Aura was the only on of her siblings, who could afford to pay for her mother’s medical bills, that her mother finally appreciated her. To my knowledge, the first and only time Aura’s mother said “I love you” to her, was right before the sick woman died. 

Many years later, when Aura was on her own deathbed, despite how many times her own child had told her throughout the years… to my knowledge, the first and only time she actually believed when her daughter said, “I love you” — was right before Aura died. 

Aura was my mother. She was an abused and neglected middle child. She was sandwiched between the two most important females in her life; her mother and her daughter… neither of which could offer her the degree of affection that she so desperately needed. 

She had pushed so hard, in life, to get to the front of the line — but when she got there financially, in the end — she realized that emotionally, she still remained stranded in the middle.

There are some nights that I cry for her… like tonight. All I want for Christmas, all I have ever really wanted for the past five years — is to bring her back from the dead, and give her a second chance at life. 

The best that I can do, is to ask: If you know a child, or a girl like her, please tell them that they are beautiful, treasured, and valuable They look so tough on the outside, but inside, they are just lost little girls… waiting to know that they are truly loved.