Essentially depending on the hour, three to four or even six in the morning, I roll down my sleeves and allow my scars to breathe.

The scars on my arms that mark and resemble emotional pain. They themselves take deep breaths, just like I.

But. No other hour I allow them to, for they must be concealed and hid from the many monsters that roam and universally rend me in particular.

Though, it's nice to know I am not alone. I love my scars, even if I cut and deliberately open them on purpose. They are almost reminiscent of a friend you know is too good for you, too kind, too selfless and too patient.

Like a wonderful friend you adore, taking the form of a cut on your arm.

I earned this status in a very vulnerable and upsetting moment in my life.

Of course, it was exploited and took advantage of. Me.

I served as an inside joke, a clown for others to get a kick out of, free use and laughter for others.

All whilst patronising me! I was oblivious. This, accompanied by other hardships, continued for a ruthless and renting four years, until it ceased.

The joke had gotten old, and they let me be.

More or less, this goes to show what true reality is like. Vulnerability is what monsters prey after! Like a shark huffing the scent of blood underwater, they prowl.

Lingering pain

I yearn for comfort, and relief; help and refuge.
But to no avail.
My pain lingers, and it hurts -- discreetly. It is unbearable.
But with time, it passes. Not in a good way. Gone and dormant for now. But will torment you again, and make you sick. A virus.
In fact, now that i've mentioned it. It's gone again.

Two Sides. One which aims to please, obey, reassure, hide and convince through the pain they bear.

And the other is defiant, livid, refusing and careless - thundering very often, reminiscent to be of an angry and stormy sky! Though this one also bears pain...

Did you notice something the two have in common? Yes, that's right! The both of them bear pain - a mutual pain despite how different.

This Is A Trauma Response. Two Sides that are moulded and melded together against my will - the two children trying in their own ways to protect me: undergoing psychological abuse and neglect from strangers which claim to be paternal figures.

Sometimes, the obedient child forces my face a smile when facing the monsters, an attempt to deceive and simutaneously protect me.

Not only that, but the noise of footsteps against creaky floors, presumably to be the monsters approaching my room, the child will forcefully pull my head under the blanket, an attempt to fool the monster that i'm sleeping...

Though this action isn't consistent.

Sometimes, the naughty child snaps with rage and defiance! Running their mouth, slamming doors and even shoving. This one is fed-up. Fed-up of the mistreat I receive universally.

If anyone dares to oppose this one, or get close to me, they'll lunge forward with snapping jaws full of hate. Further hinderance can elevate the words, soon into violence they crave and harbor.

But deep down, the children, myself included, wish for harmony and peace. All these aspects which will never be requited...