Blinding darkness.

Weakening strength.

Sickening happiness.

If pain were an ocean, I would drown. If pain were a darkness, I would get lost in the vast shadow. Why so violent? Why so rude? Why can’t you trust?

Why? I’m violent because I can’t be seen weak. Bad things happen to people like that. I’m rude because I’ve been nice and I know what happens to nice people.

I can’t trust because there is no one to trust. They’ve all walked away or broken their fair share of trust. If I lean on one person and that person breaks the trust, I fall, breaking whatever I scraped together.

Loss.

Suicide.

Talking shadows-

I know them all, because I’ve seen them all. People smile sadly in public at my scars. I hand someone money and they stare at my knuckles. I look someone in the eye, they shudder at the difference in color.

Not everyone should see what I’ve seen. Little girls- the age of eight, nine and ten should not be touched by a family member. A little girl should not watch her dad kneel and tell her that her mom died. A little girl should not have been abused in every way possible.

Dads teach you to be a fighter. They teach you to change a tire and buckle your seatbelt. They teach you to fight and to stand under the weight. It’s okay to cry- but don’t let them see you do it. Don’t hide your scars- wear them like swords, a threat to everyone, a message to everyone that you have a past.

But what if your past and present are killers? What if it isn’t just scars that they mark you with? What if it’s a forever pain- welded by years of neglect?