In so many ways, I’ve become my perpetrators. I’ve adopted their rot and allowed it to sit over me, suffocating me.

I imagined my current self comforting me after the rape.

Young me sobbed in my arms..

He cried because his hunger brought him to this.

because this hurt.

because he was alone.

I want to cry because I’ve been here before, and I’ve hated him.

Betrayed him, beat him.

And now I just want to hold him.

I am ready to evolve.

ready to give that boy what he needs.

ready to take what I need.

PS. This moment was very powerful for me. I put it into context in another piece Weaving Gifts.

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