Questioning beliefs part 2

By Her Beautiful Melancholy
They say:
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.
Whoever said that was wrong.
Sticks and stones may break your bones but words will permanently cripple you!

Looking back now. I realise I was afraid of myself...
Afraid of what I might- no. I was afraid of what I would do if I did fight back.
Afraid of the extent I might go to and what I would become.

As weak as I had become. At the back of my mind ....in the furthest, darkest recesses.
There was a voice that always called to me.....
Always calling...
But it never stopped calling.
That voice....that woman...
She was a version of me. A side of me I shied away from.
Tied up. Chained down.
Locked away.                                                  

And unlike me she....she was strong.
She was confident. Defiant and determined to the very end. And she was fighting like a wild animal. Clawing her way out of the dark.
Demanding I set her free.

But I couldn't... No. I wouldn't.
If I do I if...no ...no. I needed them. 

So I ignored her. And pretended like she never existed. Instead, I hurt myself. Knives. Blades. Sharp objects to dig up into my skin.
It hurt.....it hurt...but not enough to make me stop. But more than enough to remind me I wasn't invisible. I was alive.

As long as I remained useful they would always need me!

A lot like Stockholm syndrome right...

However the older I became the more I realized how pathetic I sounded and how wrong I was to expect that from myself.

And slowly ...slowly the shackles started falling away...  And "She" slowly started to surface. Almost imperceptibly.




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