I don't know if my inner child really exist, or if this is just a way my mind understands it. My inner child does not talk, does not interact with me, interupt me or disrupt me; I just know he is there waiting, and waiting, and waiting.
I can feel his hurt, his confusion, and I know that he is isolating and hiding, I just don't know how to reach him, or help him, so he waits, and I feel helpless in my inability to reach him or save him.
Again, the origin of post deals with the age of my inner child. I am just not sure why I picture him so young, 4-8, when I broke at the age of 14.