Sometimes I ask myself is this life really worth the fight.
I keep telling myself to keep going to prove that I survived.
I keep thinking that if I make something out of my life
It will prove the abuse did not hurt me.
I have two daughters that I want to teach to be strong independent woman.
I keep telling myself to give up will teach them nothing.
I keep telling myself keep fighting.
I am tired of fighting though.
I am tired of not being able to sleep without nightmares.
I am tired of trying to talk about the things that have happened
And feeling like someone has applied super glue to my lips.
I am tired of the daily battle that goes on in myself.
I have thought about suicide since I was 11 years old
And I continue to think about it.
It would be the easy way out.
It is one of those things that nobody seems to understand.
You are asked aren't you afraid of dying.
Are you not afraid of hell?
Well my personal reply is if there was a hell that means there is a god.
Well where the hell was he when my body was being hurt as a child.
Where was he when I felt like my body was being ripped open
by my father when I was only three years old?
Every religious person says god protects the children.
Was I not a child?
Was I not good enough for him?


So I guess in the end it is not so much about what I believe in.
I really believe it comes down to me deciding the worth of my life.
How much I want to live.
How much I feel like things are going to get better.
If I can stand to live in this creepy crawly flesh that I call my body
Even after it has been used as much as it has.
How much or how little it would effect my daughters.
How hard I want to try and prove to the people that they have hurt me
But they didn't break me after all.
This life is worth the fight.