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I thought I was ready to meet you. When my therapist asked if I could think of a reason to open the door and let you out I thought I did. I thought it would help. Turns out I locked you away for a reason. I couldn’t handle you as a kid and I still can’t. You just hurt to much. Now I just want to find a way to bury you again. So deep that I’ll never try to help you escape again. But then I see your face, and I know I can’t. I’ve opened Pandora’s box and for better or worse we’re together now. I’m sorry I’m not better. But you just hurt so much. I can’t even cut myself anymore because every time I pick up the knife I hear you screaming. You took away the only thing that made me feel better. Maybe because subconsciously I knew I was hurting you even before we met. You, my younger self. You, who let them hurt us. You, a monster. A traitor. A child. A broken, bloody, battered, child. And just like that my heart breaks again. I’m just like everyone who hurt us. I can’t protect you. I can’t save you. I just hate you. And I am so so sorry about that. But the second I let that mask of anger slip I feel everything you feel. And you feel so much. I learned a long time ago how to make my heart stone so I couldn’t feel this pain. But you’re just a kid. You can’t stop feeling. And there is so much pain. I’m so sorry baby girl. I can hardly bare seconds of the raw emotions that you feel. But you’ve been carrying that for years. You are so strong. And I’m proud of you.
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