i think i'm deserving of something good.

i walked, ran, and stayed in hell.
i forgave people who hurt who hurt me.
at a very young age, my entire world collapsed on top of me over and over again.
i still remember hearing the judge tell my parents about the word 'neglect'.
i remember everything.
i remember the house shaking and i still hear the doors slam and people yelling if i close my eyes long enough.
i can still see the police men outside the front door.
i can still feel the punch that winded me.
i relived everyday three times, twice if i was lucky.
i've been used and been told that i am the reason that god never listens to me.

but i think that i deserve more than that.
because i wasn't those people who hurt me.
i hurt myself but i'm not my parents or my siblings or the mean people at school who made fun of me.
i forgave everyone and am trying to forgive myself even though i know i did
nothing
wrong.

so why?

don't i deserve to breathe? don't i deserve something good?