I remember when I was young... You know, how everything felt so big, so huge, so much more important.. When I didnt care about someones weight, or looks, or where someone lived, or what someones families net income was... I rememeber when life was simple and everything seemed magical. When I looked at colors and saw how bright they were. When everything and anything seemed possible. When I believed that there were monsters underneath my bed, and that my mother could put fairy dust underneath my bed to make them go away....
I remember when life wasn't about the pain, and the tears and the love that I've lost. Life was about living and taking everything one day at a time. I remember when I was innocent and not violated. I remember when I wasn't afraid of Men and being alone at night. When I wasnt worried about staying out past ten O'clock and was scared of simple things, like aliens being real.
The truth is that there is such thing as monsters. Terrible monsters worse than what people can conjure up in their imagination. There are real people, who are only out there to harm you. Who simply exist to haunt your every nightmare and though. Who find you so irrisistable that they will attack you and take you SIMPLY because they feel as if it's their right... As if... as if for some ungodly reason they deserve to take you, that you belong to them, that you are less than them... But the again perhaps you are? No, they just convinced you of that when they attacked you, when they took advantage of you and made you feel like nothing.
The people you trust, the people you love... the people you know... They're the real monsters.. they're the ones who ignore your swollen eyes and the pain you try to hide but can't. They're the ones who act as though your feelings are not justified, they're the ones who act as though your grades and social skills are dropping. That its your fault you scrub your hands until they bleed.
They dont understand though, because they dont know what it's like to have something so precious stolen from you, something that the value of is unknown until someone violently rips it from your grasp. That having this... This precious gift ripped away from you causes feelings that cannot be explained. a feeling of pure and unadulturated filth, a filth that you can't scrub away no matter how hard you try. that you can't abolish no matter how much you scream and cry and get angry... There are thieves worse than the ones you see on TV ones that can't be warded away with alarm systems and baseball bats.
Now I'm older, now I'm a teenager who has expierienced things so awful, so terrifying and so harmful that I can't remain the same. That I've been forced to crawl into a tiny dark space... that... When I get away, when I go to school, I put up my walls and a fake face, a fake personality... I do this so that people don't see the legitimate pain I am in constantly. The screams that imminate from my soul. The shrieks that I couldnt let out when my innocence was stolen from me. I have to hide it all constantly, I have to keep it safe and sacred, I avoice parties, and men.. I avoid becoming truly close to anyone out of fear of them hurting me. I run away... I run away from everyone and everything because of how terrified I am of them causing me these pains.
I remember when I was young, and life was simple... When I felt so big and the world around me so innocent.... I've grown up now, and the misery and pain seems large while I feel so small and unimportant. Why must it be this way.... Why do we have to expierience such pain?
