The period of time YOU took away from me.
The time a 7 year boy trusted you, loved you, and respected you.
The time you made me promises. That game I wanted, that toy I wanted; YOU promised it all to a 7-year-old boy who would do anything for “family”.
The time I was told to follow you to a quiet and lonesome place.
The time you took advantage of my trust….. my innocence.
The way you fulfilled your sick and twisted fantasy ——— would break me, shatter me. You took a piece of me that day. You know you did.
The threats you made forced that day deep inside of me.
The wound that was left; did you ever think about that? How that 7-year-old boy was to live with this to the grave?
The boy who loved you and trusted you almost kept your promise.
Did you ever think that the 7-year-old boy would think about “that day” EVERY SINGLE DAY through the rest of his “childhood” and teenage years?
Did you ever think that maybe 13 years later, that “boy” hated life so much that he wanted to end it all?
Winter 2017 ——-
I stayed up all night. 4am and nothing but tears.
How would I do it? When would I do it? The only two things I could think about.
Drive my car off the road? Overdose on my medicine? Mix a drink with my medicine? Take a gun to my head? Slit my wrists and bleed out?
Yes; YOU made me think it all. I almost kept your 13-year-old promise.
I told someone about that promise I made.
You see, I dug deep down that early morning. I found a reason. A reason for living; A reason for continuing on.
It’s May 6, 2018 and I’m still here.