******TRIGGER WARNING for survivors of sexual abuse… And cutters and those who are suicidal… So everyone.
Dear Sick Bastard,
Yes you admitted to touching me, for kissing my 6 year old body. I am much older now and the physical memory of your hands stroking me passes through my tortured mind often. When I cut in every place you touched me I feel the shame and disgust again and again. When I bleed I feel the relief that is promised to me. You my prince my beloved uncle and I your little princess we played those roles so well didn’t we? Now my only respite is the imagined release of life into precious death, and a rope around my neck while my toes brush the snow. Why couldn’t you beg for forgiveness so I could love you again? The truth is I still love you, I dreamt of you last night and you just hugged me and cried and we knew in our hearts that it was wrong but forgiveness helps us move on. I ruminate on thoughts of you and flashbacks fill me with dread still. Please go away, or I will kill you.
-Stereotype