Maybe it was the days your father was always angry.
Even at a young age, you were always worried about what your father was going to say. Screaming and hollering, the voices echoing in your head. He was never happy, nor could you be. You realize he can't change because he's your father. You wish he could.

Maybe it was the day you lost your brother.
You were only ten, but the loss hadn't succumbed quite yet. As you got older, you realized that you never told him you loved him before he took those pills. That you wished you had done more to stop his pain. But you were only ten.

Maybe it was the day that you had your first real boyfriend.
You thought it was love when he placed his fingers inside of you rather than placing his heart within yours. Every kiss touched every ounce of your body besides your heart. You realize that you never told him to stop. That you wished you did.

Maybe it was when you had your longest relationship.
You thought it was love when he kept you on lock and key. "No short clothes", "No friends", "No one else but me", he'd say. Twisting and turning everything you had left inside keeping you sane. As he would grab your waist and unbutton your pants, you said no, but he kept going. Placing himself into you. You realized that no matter what you said, he wouldn't stop. That you wish you could bury your body so deep into the ground and never live again.

All those small moments of trauma that had bundled and grew into something much larger. Maybe you didn't realize it then, but you do now.

You wish life could just stop. That it could continue without you. You think that the time is now.

Time to make all the distant trauma a forgotten memory. A memory to you, and to those who caused it. For them, it was a small moment in their lives, for you, it was your entire life.