I see bits and pieces of my story

slipped back to me.

I am face to face with a reality that is too close to mine.

This is not an easy thing to digest.

My shattered self

only just beginning to come back together

breaks.

I want to stop watching

and I want to keep going. 

I feel connected

and altogether alone.

My mind refuses to slow down

and my body refuses to forget.

I am back in his car trying to leave.

I am back on the bed, scared.

I am twelve and walking home from school

past catcalls and marriage proposals. 

I am seventeen

his hand tight around my wrist 

telling me to walk away with him. 

I am a myriad of stories I wish I hadn’t lived

and a compilation of experiences 

that could have been worse. 

I keep watching.

18/53