Breaking & Entering
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When I was a youth, maybe 10 to 14, my brother and I had a game that we played. It probably isn’t the kind of game that most kids should play. Most of the games my brother and I played were survival skills in disguise. We learned what plants were edible, how to find shelter, and how to fight. Most of the time, I was the one who lost the fight. While my mother was incredibly emotionally destructive, she never locked me out of the house like my dad did to my brother. My mom hit me for a while, but when I learned to fight back after a few years of my brother’s tutelage, she cut that shit out. Her attacks thereafter were largely targeted to disintegrate my will to fight back. My dad, however, was physically destructive. He beat him until my brother fought back. My dad locked my brother into small spaces until my brother learned to retaliate. Then, he started locking my brother out of places. My brother taught himself how to break in and, in his weird way, he wanted to care for me by teaching me what he learned. My childhood reflects a strong feeling of being trapped. So, I learned how to break into places.