“But you can’t!”
I stare at this little child inside of my mind. She’s scared - no, terrified. She flinches at the slightest hint of anger directed at her. She cowers when she thinks someone might hit her. She isn’t able to tell that not everyone looks to abuse her in some way.
She’s me.
But I’m not a child. I’m an adult. But what happened to me back then, what caused the permanent changes in my mind, froze a part of me in that place. Despite me working to get control over the little child inside of me, she controls me.
She told me I can’t leave. Why can’t I leave?
“Because they are the only one willing to put up with you! Because of what happened, nobody will want you!”
Maybe. Maybe not.
“He’s safe. He accepts us.”
No, he tolerates us. He abuses us too. We need to leave.
“I can’t”
Why not?
“Because I’m scared.”
Scared of what?
“Everything.”
Well, so am I. But he’s using us to make himself feel strong.
“And what’s wrong with that?”
Everything.
We go back and forth, forth and back. We can never agree, so we can never act. I’m stuck here, and so is she. And here we will stay, because we cannot get out on our own.