my friends sister was telling me about how in highschool a guy tried to take a picture up her skirt as she was...
I feel because I don’t know how to stop.
There have been opportunities to stop. I have almost taken them. There are opportunities to hide, to dull, to numb. I often take them.
I lie about it. I hide it. I put it out there, only to take it back. I don’t understand it. But here it is, raw, fresh.
So when I lie awake at night lately, hurting too hard to move or sleep, a part of me is thankful. My pain belongs to me. I have chosen it.