It became all too easy to doubt myself. Giving up became a habit and although I wasn't proud of it, I accepted that it had become a part of who I am. Was. Was. Its incredible how one person can grab hold of your wrist, all the while claiming they're gentle and will take care of you, let nothing happen to you. The grab is turning sore but they've scared you into believing what they say through their clenched jaw and angry eyes. Underneath their flowery lies, you find they're cruel, rough and they inflict the harm upon you they swore they'd never let touch you. A betrayal you never imagined could come from someone you were so sure was the one.
One year later and I've safely, finally escaped the hell-hole. My hazel, proud eyes are opened to what I endured and the blessings have become abundant in successfully letting go of that past. Hard but necessary. A little battered, bruised and sore, I've emerged and am holding on with all the grip I have to the new life I've discovered, almost handed to me on a silver platter. Better than anything else, is I have my voice back and a man who will listen to it without telling me what to say or how to feel. All the sudden those years of ache are behind me, the pain is invisible and all I can wrap my mind around anymore is the beauty in the life I'm living.
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