A fresh face for a Victim-filled War

My story is not a one-of-a-kind trick or tale; just as "the real problem" that has brought me to this present place in recovery is really  NOT just my problem ALONE. What became problematic was the way this societal-ill affected my mindset, my lines of reasoning, my short attention span, my altruistic thinking and more so the negative, demeaning conception of SELF that began at 5 years- old & led me to think I would be misunderstood all of my life.

What I needed was my trust in god, the world, and humanity restored. I dreamt of being able to trust someone enough that I could make the choice to love them. And picking someone who is deserving of my love, because I've had to re-teach myself that love can be a beautiful thing and it doesn't always have to feel so scary and unpredictable. There are and will be friends who accept me for who I really am, and that means ALL of me. The pieces I thought were broken, too fucked to function; parts of my soul too forgotten and plentiful to mention were buried under layers and layers of "I AM UNLOVABLE" "UNWANTED" "WORTHLESS" "DISGUSTING"... we'll stop there for now.

I am a fresh face for a victim-filled war.

unwanted criminals, too familiar to see

vast in numbers, professions, obsessions galore

we build up this bonified man of society

who never feels he is getting enough of the most important thing in life,

LOVE,

not wanted by his wife

so he stepped upon me

and wrote with his fingers

'the man' across my forehead

and he played the lady, the tramp.

He made the decisions, my decisions, my rights,

were played with to toil and tightness.

-I can't stand on my feet, I am too scared to breathe. This body can't be mine forever-

In moments, second unmeasured, things were gone from inside me

a child didn't know couldn't be replaced.

I can't even recognize love when it lies in my lap

without hearing the liar who ate my homework;

and finished me for his second plate, ate me for his midday snack, midnight snack and all the munching in between

my feet failed to take root beneath me. how could they? How could I? Who was there to trust?"

dissociative writ//Dane 5:40 11/30/14