We are survivors, yes. But our hands Shake and we are irrevocably damaged.
We learned to read body language a long time ago. It’s helpful in certain situations, but a lot of times we see annoyance and anger where there is none. It scares us. Makes us timid. Makes us walk around on tiptoes.
People get so mad at us for being weak. Have a backbone. Stand up for yourself. As if it’s that simple. As if we haven’t been fighting our whole lives. We say okay instead of arguing or asking questions because we know better.
We’ll either apologize too much or not at all. Some say sorry faster than their names. Others can’t bring themselves to say those words without thinking back to times when they were told they couldn’t apologize for being a failure.
Sometimes we’ll put duct tape on our fingertips and rip over and over and over again. We’re trying to remove the fingerprint from our skin. Like that will change our identity and miraculously our history will be changed as well. Pumice stone might work better but we know better than to leave marks where other people can see.
Sometimes our friends will want to wrestle. Some of us will fight back laughing until it lasts one second longer than it should. Than our chests will heave and we’ll feel trapped enough to fight back like we need to get away. Like we can’t stand being touched for one more second. Others won’t even try. They’ve perfected the move of throwing their hands up to protect their face.
If you yell at us sometimes we’ll feel brave. Sometimes we’ll yell back. But no matter what our minds swoosh us quickly from where we’re at and back in time. We’ve time travelled in front of you. If you weren’t standing there we’d beat an open palm against our temple to jump back to the present. We know it doesn’t work, but we keep doing it anyway.
The few people that we have told about the demons that used to live in our house and now live in our heads have told us that there is light at the end of the Tunnel. Things get better. Don’t give up.
We would have given up a long time ago if that was an option. We keep moving forward with our fists shaking at our sides. In movies and books it’s endearing. In real life we hold our wrists so that it stops.