A Broken Vase

My heart feels scarred. I’m numb; it should hurt but all I feel is an empty feeling where the pain should be

My heart feels heavy but it doesn’t hurt like I think it should, and it’s heavy because it’s tired. I’m tired of being abused. I don’t really believe anybody does anything to deserve abuse but then I have to wonder what have I done? Why me?

Rationally I know society and the patriarchal culture we live in raises boys into men who are taught they can take and take and hurt and hurt with no sort of consequences. As girls we’re socialized to take it and be nice and be polite but I’m so tired, so tired.

I feel like I’m surrounded by darkness and I’m going to drown in it. There’s a part of me that just wants to let go, just let the darkness envelop me but there’s another part that wants to keep fighting because it’s fucking unfair that anybody feels this way . I have a daughter I have to fight for because I don’t ever want her to feel this way but I’m so tired.

I’m just so tired.

Most days I feel strong. I feel like I can make a change; create the change that I need. You know, be the change that I want to see in the world but other days I just…

Making breakfast is a chore. I feel like I’m a vase that’s fallen too many times and has been put together too many times and the pieces no longer fit.
I’ll never be like the beautiful vase I once was.
All that remains are broken shards; jagged pieces. But no one can throw me away because they have some weird emotional attachment to the vase. They can’t explain it but they still keep it around. Maybe it’s just as well. It’s been in the family so long we might as well keep it.

And I shouldn’t really dehumanize myself and compare myself to an object but the way I’ve been treated…

I’ve been abused and raped, denigrated and degraded and so am I really human? My humanity has been stripped away, what does it matter if I do dehumanize myself further?

A Broken Vase

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