I never had the chance to become. I lost a self I never got to know.
I look around, trying to find who I once was, or who I could have become. But all I see is the distortion you left me with.
Every day feels like searching for someone who was never allowed to exist.
Though I survived, I am not proud of it. I’m not proud of who I’ve become because of it, I’m not proud of the scars I wear.
Although my body is healed, my mind continues to bleed like it’s fresh.