Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Maybe it is time to move. 

This whole time, I have been so proud of myself because I felt like I wouldn't let him push me out of my house. Like I'd survived the worst he could do to me, and then said to him, "fuck you. You won't force me from my own house, the one place in the world that's meant to be completely safe for me." 

But lately ... Lately I'm reminded every where I look that he's still around. That even though I might not see him, he's still there. Still hanging around, meaning that I get constant reminders of what happened. Like tiny little shocks, over and over. And at some point, you think the shock will lessen, that you will get used to it and it won't affect you anymore ... But it hasn't happened like that. It still hurts every single time. It still makes me flash back, every single time. It still shocks me, upsets me and puts me ten steps backwards, every single time. 

And I'm getting so, so tired of it. 

Maybe it's time to move. 

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