I sat there waiting to be hugged by the sweet arms of death.
I sat there awaiting the clock to strike twelve and for my fairytale to end.
I sat there with a half open pill bottle like a hooker at a night brothel.
I sat there awaiting Karma to exit and leave; to leave me in my misery.
I wanted to go away and never return.
I did not mind if in hell I would eternally burn.
I decided my own fate.
I decided my death date.
I was tired of living a lie.
I was tired of hating my melanated skin.
It was not something I wanted to decry.
I wanted to fade away alone and with a grin.
¨Go to sleep my child.¨
I can’t I don’t want to PLEASE!
It is not my time!
I drifted off into a sleep that night.
Rifted from reality; here the demons creep every fortnight.
It was September 18th, 2015.
It was a night that I can never forget.
I was depressed more than I’ve ever been.
I decided that I wanted everything to be over.
I was only 16 years old.
Now I am 18.
I asked myself when I awoke the next morning.
“What is it that got you to this point?”
I could not give myself an answer for I thought I did not know.
When in fact my soul did.
I had been broken for years in the past.
Shattered, resemblance of the broken glass.
I had been torn, ravished into pieces.
Unspeakable crimes done to my body.
My heart knew that I was merely a child.
My body could not figure the same.
My hormones were running wild.
And I was the only person to blame.
I tortured myself with a game.
“The 123’s of My Attackers Name.”
A tender girl.
The sweet face souring the purity that was me.
I was a toy in her sick world.
A life sized Barbie.
Pretty hair and quiet skin.
Every moment we kissed.
My body shuddered with sin.
A family friend.
Drunken breath of liquor and malt.
He began to slide his hand down my thigh.
And my whole body came to a halt.
My first encounter with a man.
All with the stroke of one hand.
Another offered me money for sex.
Would not give me a simple rest.
I didn’t quite understand.
And he stills lies right next door.
He was an in-law.
He thought I was beautiful.
Preyed upon me being naive.
He defined my definition of self-hate.
I defined my sister’s definition of betrayal.
I trust him.
And so I thought.
I was sitting home.
A place of peace.
Then this preposterous pitiless punic peeved peckish prick!
He raped me.
He took from me the last bit of hope and self-esteem I had left.
He took away the point of mirrors and brushed my eyeshadow on everyday.
He was the only one who confirmed my beauty.
As you can see everything that is everything happened to me.
I became unassured with myself.
I knew that all I could do was die and get it over with.
I did not care about leaving behind beloved friends.
I thought that they meant me no good in the first place.
But alas I awoke the next day and resumed my life.
I kept on going.
That’s what I say everyone should do.
Keep giving life a chance.
Let it not defeat you.
Embrace the struggle.
Acknowledge that your troubles certainly do not last always.
Apparently mine did not.