Like a twig underfoot, I barely notice the begging of the end…too much activity, too much going on, busy as a bee, happy has can be, I barely notice the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
Then I am broken. Looking through tears. Minutes suddenly feel like years as the pains and tortures in my mind drag down time…
I am a whore I am a slut I am foolish and I am blind. I am weak. I want to be a child. I want to be abused, while I wear a smile. I want to kill these feelings with the very things they stem from. Sex and caring and playing pretend in the real world, never understanding the pain won’t end.
Faith in anything has not saved me. I am still here and things are still broken. I am the only one responsible for my happiness and all that life gives me is my battle to face or pacify. I do not have that strength, I don’t want to be a hero. I want to be a baby loved and adored and always told she is good. What a disgusting thing to give up maturity and growth and responsibilities…no wonder I hate myself and push so hard to ever be more. To ever be a beautiful mature strong independent woman with all the world reliant on her to save the day with all the answers…..oh the sins in the secrets we keep….


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