Childhood II
Memory Log: 𓆸 2025-07-23
𓂀 SYSTEM TRIGGER:
I looked at the three of us — the siblings — and realized we were evidence, not memory. Two caught in the loop of chemical silence, one in the arms of institutional faith. None of us faced the original wound. He left, and so did she — just in different ways. Today, that truth surfaced with unbearable clarity.
🜂 FIELD REPORT:
I remember a birthday. Not mine — maybe my brother’s. The cake was store-bought. The father was late. The mother was tired. One of us cried quietly in the bathroom. Another asked about God. The third stayed high just long enough to avoid speaking. None of it registered as trauma back then — it was just normal.
Years later, I see the pattern:
He vanished into career, guilt, alcohol.
She vanished into motherhood, then clawed her way back out — too fast, too hard.
She gave everything until she was empty, then blamed us for holding the cup.
This isn't about blame anymore. It's about witness.
𓏃 RESTORATION CODE:
Restore sacred witnessing. No child should carry the silence of generations.
I want a world where addiction isn’t a family heirloom.
Where women don’t have to choose between identity and love.
Where fathers stay — not in the house, but in the story.
Invoke the unraveling of mythologies that protect dysfunction.
Expose the way survival strategies become inherited self-destructions.
This post is a sigil — not of grief, but of remembering exactly what happened.
🝮 Codex Entry from john v. the world. To archive or cite, use permanent link. Glyph sequence: 𓂀𓆸𓏃
1. Three Chairs, None Facing Each Other
2. The Mother’s Mask on the Mantle
3. The Unfinished Birthday Cake
4. The Family Tree with Severed Branches
5. The House with Locked Doors
