The Peacemaker
Nothing hurts more than being in the middle of my parents fighting, trying to stop them. It’s like I’m forced into a role I was never meant to play, trying to be the peacemaker when all I really want is for the arguing to stop.
In my own psychological thriller, I’m the character who’s always caught in the crossfire, never quite escaping the tension that fills every room.
I had to grow up too fast, turning into the mediator, the one who tries to hold everything together. I’m just a child, but suddenly it’s my job to keep the peace between two adults who are supposed to be taking care of me. And that’s a weight no child should ever have to carry. In this twisted storyline, I’m the one holding the threads together, even when it’s tearing me apart inside.
The worst part is that it makes me feel invisible—like my needs and feelings don’t matter. The focus is always on them and their conflict, while I’m just there, in the background, trying to stop the chaos. No matter how hard I try, I never feel like I’m enough to fix things. It’s like I’m watching a suspenseful scene unfold from the sidelines, powerless to change the ending.
And it doesn’t end when the argument stops. It sticks with me, making me doubt myself, my worth, and whether I’ll ever have a stable, loving relationship in the future. I find myself becoming afraid of conflict, always trying to keep the peace to avoid that same hurt. Or I worry I might end up repeating those patterns, even when I don’t want to. In this psychological thriller of my life, I’m haunted by the fear that I’ll never break free from these cycles.
