I did not expect to be. I did not think I ever could be. The more I focused on 'healing' the more impossible it seemed to become, the more agony became the only thing I could feel. I don't think I was healing, now. I was tearing myself apart, because I wanted so desperately to be loved and I thought that the only way I could be good enough to earn that would be to rip out my scars with my teeth. Whatever I was doing, I wasn't doing for myself. I was afraid, and hungry, and desperate, and I believed whatever I was told.
I will always be hurt. My past will never entirely ease its claws from my throat. I will always have impulses and desires and fears that should not be. Oddly, since accepting that, it has become so much less oppressive.
I am deeply lonely. Yet somehow, I feel less so than when I was desperately clinging to any scrap of attention I could find. It still hurts, but I think it will ease in time.
What has been done to me will always be a part of me, but only ever a part. Not every thought or action or emotion is the result of his choices, and it was always rather disempowering to hear the implication that it was, although I did not have the understanding of why until now, much less the ability to articulate it.
I'm starting to fall in love with the world again. I am remembering why I chose to live, over and over and over again, fighting for a future I never believed I would see. But I did, and here I am, now. I can enjoy the way the light shimmers through stained glass, the emerald glow of the leaves, the heavy, comforting warmth of being loved.
It's hard for me to trust that anyone will stay. Some days are harder than others. But for now, I can enjoy what I do have, and find strength in being able to support the ones that I will never willingly abandon.
I enjoy being in a caretaking role. Perhaps it is unorthodox, for one as young and hurt as me, but I enjoy it. It makes me feel strong and useful, and reminds me of the kindness that yet exists in the world. It gives me a purpose, but not just that, and it's not just about redemption, either. I'm not sure it has ever been, beyond a surface level understanding. I don't think I know why I truly prefer it. It's just... it feels good.
I'm trying to be gentler with myself. Perhaps many of the things that help me... shouldn't. But they do, and as long as they cause no harm, I see no logical reason I should continue to be ashamed.
Everything will be painful, but it will be worth it. It will be alright. Everyone is worth fighting for. Perhaps that might even include me.
