I Remember all the Pain.
I spent so many years trying to forget the pain; only now am I strong enough to remember it.
I remember it all.
I remember the subtle, subterranean manipulations.
I remember getting walked on like a dirty doormat.
I remember softly saying “Yes, sure, of course” when all I wanted was to scream, “F*ck no.”
I remember catering to everyone else’s needs so desperately that it ripped me into scattered smithereens.
I remember the constant weight of unsaid words and unspoken feelings like a suffocating snake around my neck.
I remember hiding.
I remember holding shaky pieces together so tightly, making sure not a single soul saw the raw river of hurt in my heart.
I remember shiny fake smiles and glittery efforts of fantastic pretending.
I remember crying—the heavy, guttural sobs that haunted the sweet pink walls of my bedroom.
I remember loathing every last thing about myself, wishing on 20 million twinkling stars to become someone new.
I remember it all.
I remember because I can’t forget.
Forgetting would be foolish.
I remember because these pains, terrifying as they are, are my greatest teachers.
I remember because in remembering, I am given wings.
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