#trustandtrauma
When they stood beside
my hospital bed
with quiet voices
and careful smiles,
they told me
I was going somewhere safe.
Somewhere
I could stay for a while.
I thought that meant
a family.
A place
where someone might finally want me.
My room
sat at the top of the stairs.
White sheets
pulled tight
like nothing messy
was allowed to exist.
Everything spotless.
Everything quiet.
Everything perfect.
I thought
if I behaved well enough
maybe they’d love me.
Six months passed
in that perfect house.
Six months
of learning
that a place can look like a family
without ever being one.
The day they took me away
I cried for the foster carer.
Even a house
that hurts you
still feels like something
when you’ve had nothing.
But that house
didn’t just take my hope.
It taught me something
much harder to unlearn.
That sometimes
the places meant to protect you
are simply better
at hiding the damage.
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 7:35 PM UTC