Psych.

Begin.

My parents had split when I was a baby. But, I remembered it clearly. That wasn't my problem. I understood that it was for the best.
I was just pegged with hurt and loneliness.
As a child, I was always accustomed to being alone. Even though I never really was. I had a big family, but they weren't always so nice.
Although, I was already shunned by everyone around me, I secluded myself and created my own little world.
This world was not entirely safe for me, as my thoughts and emotions soon crawled in.
Often, they would project. People began to see glimpses of my world through anger and fear. I came to really scare myself and others. Especially my mother.
My mother, the image of strength. The only thing that I could really hold on to. I still lashed out. She took my frustrations and swallowed them. I didn't realize this at the time.
When I still had my innocence, I was convinced that everything was imagination and I could control it all. My world would soon be saved. I was the hero and I could make it so! Or so I thought.
I've always said that I was forced to mature at an early age.
That was because I met the real world. I was brutally smacked down and spit on. And just when I thought things couldn't possibly get worse. HE happened. The most precious thing to me was stolen and never returned.
A prepubescent little lump of a girl. Why me?
Denial was what became of me. I zipped my lips. It was all my imagination. Just an attack on my little world. I tried to convince myself of that. But as I said before, I inadvertently gave glimpses to my world.
Things only got worse for me. They say that death isn't the only choice, but I was convinced that it was the best. A stupid thing to hold on to.
I thank my father for pulling me away from that multiple times. As much as I was stubborn and difficult, he never gave up hope.
18.
At last, the age that is labeled as adulthood.
Why is it that I still feel like that child?
I'm stuck in my world viewing all of the despair it has been through.
Broken glass. Forest fires. Suffocation. Incarceration. War.
All just imagination.
A positive thing: Therapist trips and various experiences taught me well.
I am a hardened individual. I know what to do with myself. I just don't know how to do it.
And fear of uncertainty is drowning me although I can swim.