My darkest time wasn't what you'd think. You would think being violently physically abused by my best friend from ages six to thirteen would mean one of my darkest times would be during. Maybe drowning in a swimming pool or one of the many times I thought she might kill me if I didn't fight back, only to get yelled at for fighting back. No, the darkest time came afterwards because afterwards, I had learned not to fight back.
When you learn not to fight and are introduced to a new form of violence, you freeze. Or at least, I froze, as pieces of me melted into mockingly tender touch. Afterwards, I was frozen, memories locked away for two years. When I was fifteen, I wanted to disappear - I drank mouthwash in hopes it would kill me. 45Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQ4iK8xFI0j
Sometimes I still want to disappear, but that was the closest I ever came to action. Nowadays I know darkness, like light, cannot last forever. Darkest time in my life was when I committed violence against myself, almost ended my life. No matter how many other ways I get hurt, that internal betrayal will always sting compared to external ones.
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