Nothing will make it better.
The shame clings to me like a slip filled with static.
It moves with me – it molds to my very essence.
It doesn’t go away.
I can’t sleep.
I can’t eat.
I am not normal.
I carry all this anger and pain and this overwhelming shame.
I fantasize about what it would be like if I didn’t exist.
If I was never born.
If I never existed he could not have hurt me.
How lovely it would have been to have never been abused.