Twenty two years ago I took my first breathe. My favorite color is pink. I love glitter. I still have no clue who I am. Everyone has judgement on me.....maybe I am stupid or paranoid. Heck, maybe I am finally loosing it. But after the facts that I had to come to grips with you would too. It's hard to say when I finally realize that I was losing it sanity is something I don't think I ever came to grips with. Being young and abused isn't something easy to deal with when no one helps you.I think I was probably eight when it all started.I trusted him. He was my uncle. Someone to go to when things didnt make sense. He liked to play games' but not the kind I was used to. these games make me do things I wasn't ready to do. It went on for four years but honestly still hasn't ended. All the pain I felt then I carry around to this day. Images of his basement, the smell of his hot breath as he lay pressed upon me moaning. Nightmares I can never out live. I didnt scream, I never even spoke out. I mostly blocked it all out.....cried alot and swallowed everything that I was forced to deal with. I used to pretend that it was normal, and that what was happening was okay. But I knew it wasnt. He was sick, I was just his drug. He has no idea the damage he has done. All the nights I thought about ending it, just swallowing some pills and going to sleep. All the times I took the dullest knife I could find and rake it against my wrists till I was covered in my own blood. All the prayers I sent up just asking why me.....all the nights I slept holding myself just to keep from falling apart. On the outside I look normal. I smile and laugh like the other women my age, I even fall in love normal. But my pain gets uprooted with love. Simply because I cant seem to get that mistrust out of my head. The wrong love, the wrong touch that burns my flesh to this day.
One night I remember specifically was when he tried to put it in me. The fear alone had me wanting to vomit, but the excruciating pain of him wedging my thighs down and bearing down on me was almost too much. I felt something snap. But it wasnt my bones. It was deeper inside. It was something part of me that finally broke. My will possibly. But the last tear just traced the edge of my cheek and I couldnt muster a tear anymore. Everyday after that the teats never came, unless I was alone. Much like I am tonight. Alone with my own monsters.....
