When I was born, I was given up before my eyes could even adjust to the sight of my birth parents, only to be given back to them at age five. I was ***** by my mentally ******* uncle at age eight. I fell in love with a boy who beat me repeatedly at the age of sixteen. My house drowned in a flood at age twenty one. And yes, I know that you’re trying to rip me to pieces darling and I don’t necessarily blame you, but just know that your efforts will go unnoticed. That throwing around words like “*****” and “*******” are going to have to be more bold and red than the blood i laid in at age eight looking up at good ole uncle Kevin. That no matter how many words you spew my way, I will not drown in them thanks to the flood waters that taught me how to swim. I know that giving me up was something easy for you to do, much like falling rather quickly into her bed, but don’t worry darling I will not let it get me down. You see, yes you’re a hurricane but where I live we have a lot of those. You experience it, pick up the pieces of your life you’re left with and then you build your life back up. The good thing about hurricanes though is they only come once. There will only be one hurricane elizabeth and you were her. So now that you’ve run your path leaving me a little bruised and beat up, I am gathering my belongings because I have already found a new home. One protected from you.
I wrote this around two years ago, and I just found it. Boy how have the tides changed. I'd like to thank my now wife for being my home then and my home forever.