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Something was taken from me when I was far too young to truly understand. Over time, I have came to different conclusions as to 'what', in an attempt to 'heal'.
I always thought I knew.
I thought it was my confidence that was stolen.
I thought it was my innocence, or ability to love.
I thought it was my image of sex.
My consciensce.
My outlook on adolescence.
My self respect.
All of this - although so very real and true - was barely scraping the surface.
The older I get, the more I realize there is no bigger loss, than time.
Time is so precious.
Hours, days, weeks, months, years.
Trying to decypher why I am so broken.
Trying to understand why I can't just be normal, or feel ready to be loved...
because deep down, it just goes deeper.
My trauma, my fears, my self sabbotage. It's a drain. A tap keeps running and all of this so called - 'self actualization' - flows so fiercly into a hole of nothingness.
It feels wasted. All of that energy... all of those hopes, and dreams that one day I will be able to patch up those holes where my old self used to be...but see, the patch kit is faulty. It's a lie.
It doesn't work like that. Over time, pieces of you drift away, and the ocean of life is so fucking unforgiving.
I think my version of healing doesn't have to end in love. I think I need to change the motive. Work with the parts I have left, and let those guards I have (that have been oh so strong) do their job.
Maybe my heart doesnt need to feel ready to be loved. Maybe I need to just be okay with that.
I am done giving my time to those thieves that stole everything.
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Put them behind you and get on with your life and if you can't do this you will do good to see a therapist.
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