Broken Pieces

My Story

I can't even cry anymore

Have I cried too much?

Can the pain not find its way out of the twisted thickets in my heart?

Do I need to accept the pain?

How would I do that?

I want to feel the stinging of my hot tears rolling down my cheeks.

I want to feel my breath get ragged as I try to hold on.

I want to remember.

But remembering hurts.

I remember the smallest details of every room.

I remember the backyard I used to play in.

I remember how the furniture was aligned.

I remember the rug, the sink, the back porch.

I remember my pot that sat in front of the front porch.

I remember the slugs that would hide under it.

I remember the tree I used to climb.

I remember the grill.

I remember his face.

I remember his lies.

"I'm trying to stop."

He said that a lot.

I remember being afraid because even at a young age I knew it was wrong.

I remember the fear.

It's a special fear.

The one where its real.

You know it could happen and you try to prevent it.

Keeping my legs closed tight.

Wrapping the blanket around me.

Crawling away.

Feeling dirty.

Feeling weak.

A message to you.

Dear Abuser,

You are my abuser. You made me feel weak. You scared me. I was young but not stupid. You lied and they believed you. I felt crazy, like there was something wrong with me. But I am no longer a victim. I'm a survivor.

Here's some things that have happened since I found the courage to tell. I got depression, I cut myself to feel anything other then the utter disgust in myself you made me feel. I started exercising a lot and dieting to make myself feel like in had worth. I developed this anxiety of men, I'm afraid they will abuse me. Especially older men who look like you. I cried myself to sleep most every night wanting, yearning to be okay. I lost my faith in God because how could he let a demon try to take over my innocent body. But now I'm strong. I have a voice. You made me a statistic but that is not all I am. I love myself and hold my faith where my heart is. I stand up against sexist ideas and realize my body was always mine never yours or anybody else's. I'm not your object anymore, I never really was but now I realize that. I'm not weak, I have gotten stronger and colder now that you are gone. My nightmares about you are gone. I'm always the one in control now. So dear Abuser, or Lawrence (people should know your name and that abuser is your label) thank you for making me strong. I no longer hold an evil hate, just content in knowing that I will get my justice one day. Because I think we both know you are not welcome in paradise.

                   ~ The Survivor.

I've been so scared to share my story but here it is. Its poetic but I'm sure anyone can put the pieces together.