1 year 11 months

Note: I actually wrote this, but did not publish, 5 months ago. Things have changed since then.

 

 

Nearly 2 years since I cut contact.

 

Want the truth?

 

Every single day, I wish I could go back.

Never really understood the concept ‘One day at a time’ until this experience.

I look up info about family members online. Some I wish to show evidence of suffering – because honestly, I think they deserve a taste of this.

Others; evidence that they might miss me. Or think about me once in a blue moon.

Nothing. I’m not missed – my leaving was their biggest relief.

 

I lie here on days I’m too incapacitated to distract myself with busy-work, and the memories roll on by.

 

Struggle. Sadism.

Surrounded. Subdued.

 

Survivor. Right?

This is me, surviving.

I thought a golden dawn was beyond the crest of the hill.

When does it hurt less?

 

I’m too tied up with an immature sense of how things should be.

 

Mostly, I just wish they could have suffered

instead

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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