My first lesson on love was when i was still in diapers, my father locked my mom and me out. It was snowing and i was at the age where dresses were always in style. The first time i felt love on my skin was when i was in the third grade, i guess maybe i had done something wrong to make my father so mad that he'd rather lay a hand on me and humiliate me then talk it out. And thats what i had to base the idea of love around Was bruises and being nervous of saying the wrong ******* thing. They say that when a girl finds a guy its because some characteristic reminds them of their father, which i suppose is true because halfway through my first relationship my boyfriend got so ******* that he threw something and  it hit me in the face, i broke up with him the next day. Because after dealing with my father when he actually wanted me around, or shall i say wanted a punching bag for the day i got sick and tired of it. I am no ones punching bag not with words of venom or hands of steel. Yet i fell into the trap of emotional, verbal and mental abuse. As time passed by i had given pieces of me away to men who just wanted someone to be their ******* toy they could hurt and never have a reaction. Each wound that i got each pebble of self hate started weighing me down as i started sewing my mouth shut. I knew if i were to say the wrong thing i could be hurt for it. I found out that being playful is a hard thing to do with someone who has the anger level of hulk who can go from zero to ten in about five seconds. Next thing you know the man whose suppose to protect you and show you what real men are supposed to look like, has you by your throat and you panic. You never thought this could happen. Everyone said he was just being playful. Ha playful my ***. Playful isnt suppose to leave bruises across your body. The same way love is only suppose to heal your wounds and the mess that goes on inside your head. I learned real fast that love is not always as it seems.