I know how it feels

To live in a house but sleep in the guest room,

Have to ask if you can eat this cereal, or that bread, or that milk,

Have to ask where the bathroom is every time you have to go,

Have to ask the quickest way to the grocery store,

Because you sleep in the guest room,

And the house is your body.

 

I know how it feels

To walk down the hallway knowing

That this is the same hallway he lets laughter linger on his lips,

That this is the same hallway he smiles so smoothly,

That this is the same hallway you cower when you hear his footsteps that you’ve come to memorise,

Because you walk in his hallway,

And he is the giant but you are just an ant.

 

I know how it feels

To fall down a bottomless well wondering

If someone will ever catch you and hoist you back up

If someone will remember you ever fell,

If someone will hear your now silent screams echo in the darkness but know that those screams are getting louder and more painful even though the air has silenced them over time.

 

I know how you feel.

And I am here to tell you that you are not alone.

The body you live in is yours, not his

He was the robber who left muddy shoe marks all over your pristine marble floor

He was the ant that crawled up your body and left bite marks on your neck

He was the one who pushed you down that well, you did not fall.

And I know that now you are left with his mess,

You have to clean his muddy shoes, put bandaids on the burning bites, and hope that there is a bottom to this well because he came with no invitation.

 

My assaulter emptied out my body’s gasoline,

And when I left for the road to go find the instruction book that can tell me how to glue the pieces of skin he tore off,

I stood alone, gas-less in the middle of a dirt-path highway,

So I turned the blood that still lingered in my mouth and in my cuts into gasoline and kept moving, making my way to being Okay.

 

My fellow fallers,

I promise you that there is a bottom to the bottomless well he pushed you down,

And I promise you that it will break your bones and leave bruises on your body that you will try to heal but even the most renown doctor won’t be able to fix you while you watch silently

I promise you that it will be you who turns your hurt into gasoline,

You will climb out of the well, even when the wind tries to knock you down, you will keep climbing

And it’s ok if someone reaches a hand down and tries to help because they heard your silent screams and somehow knew where to find you,

Grab the hand but keep climbing, using your own blood and sweat to power you to the sunlight that waits for you at the top.

 

I promise that you are a Rising Survivor and the skin he tore off and put up on his wall of memories like a trophy will rot.

It will leave a rancid smell in his mind forever, but the scars he left on you will fade. The pieces he tore off will regrow.

Because you are a Rising Survivor and you will become whole again.