The marks you left on my skin sank deep into my soul. And I’m terrified that I never learned anything from them except to fear the world around me. I’m terrified that I learned to shield myself from everything and forgot to learn how to love myself instead. I was small and fragile and kind. And you were cruel. And you stole pieces of me. Every single day you stole pieces of me and you broke me until I couldn’t feel myself anymore. And sometimes I still feel a fire burning in my stomach that scalds my insides until I can no longer speak. When I try to hold my tongue I taste venom behind my teeth and an anger in my heart that is incomparable to anything else I’ve ever felt. There is a lingering sadness in my soul that I fear will always be a large part of me. A damaged beaten puppy that cowers away from love with the fear that it is really more pain in disguise. And I left the experience with nothing more than a hatred for myself. For letting myself be this small helpless child for so long. For allowing myself to be weak enough to stay and let you break me, over, and over again.
I was small, and fragile, and kind. And you, were cruel.