Was I just the girl who wore too slutty clothes? Was I just an easy target? Was it my fault you did this? What did you do to me? Maybe I should thank you. Maybe it was fate. I want to try and battle my thoughts and question, but it all comes back to that car and pain. I think I figured it was because I was young, dumb, easy, and slutty. In reality, it was your fault. You chose to put your hands on a small fragile minor. You decided to put your fingers inside of a small innocent being. You had those nasty thoughts and ideas. You made the choice. You should have been in the correct state of mind to not touch, feel, and hurt a small child. Maybe it is my fault. I let you do it without knowing better or fighting back. Maybe I should be able to go places without flashbacks of you feeling me up and breaking down in a bathroom. Or be able to walk down the road without having pepper spray in my purse. Maybe I should thank you for what you did to me. You made me grow up and soon ruin my life with stupid habits. Having an addiction to *** and trying to act thrice my age. Maybe I was the stupid one and I should be the one in jail. Maybe one day you'll think back and regret it. I think maybe you should rot and rot and rot until one day you see the meanest man you'll ever see. This is for you. You know who you are. I hope one day I will have the guts to sit in front of you and tell you everything I want to say.   All I do is hurt good people now. You broke me. This is my farewell to you, you will never be able to find me or relatively be able to fix what you've done to me.

I am Home. The smell of baked goods and candles. The laughter around a bonfire and large family get-togethers. Drama lingers from past heartbreak and trouble. Dead silent in the dawn, and slowly gets louder until the next dusk. Light. The light of people and pets.

I am Trauma. The sting of pain and worthlessness. The thought of maybe it’s not worth it anymore. The abuse. The pain. The lingering sting of tears, hands on my throat, fingers digging into skin. The ****** abuse just gave inspiration to grow from.

I am Love. I fall in love quickly and deeply. The love I got from my mother, my grandparents, and friends. This showed me how to fall in love from nothingness to every single thing about a person. Love must not be perished or put out. Love teaches me how to grow every day.

I am knowledgeable. I am the books upon the dresser of my room. I learn from others and myself. I show others how to learn to become strong. I’ve learned not to drown myself in guilt from books upon books of other people's troubles. I may be knowledgeable but I’m not the epitome of knowledge.

I am the Sun. Everyone around me is like a planet in my solar system. Nobody can be the sun except myself. If I were to burn out, I would hurt others and end the solar system. Therefore, I am the sun of my own solar system.
         I am Pain. I am Suffering. I am Happy. I am Young. I am Wild. I AM MYSELF. I AM A SURVIVOR.