I am so stuck.
This pit of emptiness absorbs me.
My shoulders circle uncomfortably.
My grip tightens.
I pull my hair to try to find grounding.
I hyperventilate until I am on the brink of death.
My fingers run down my thighs,
smooth to rough to smooth.
My cuts smile back at me proud.
Another cut, another day I fought to stay alive.
The desire to scream.
The feeling of it not being okay, never forgiving myself.
I never fought back, didn’t yell for him to stop.
My passive anger remains bottled.