I’ve come to realize that I have made a grave mistake;
I need to be held accountable for my actions but I do want make it known why I am pleading guilty.
I turns out that I have been fighting for the wrong side, for longer than I thought.
In the last 10 years of my life, I was a victim.
I was a victim of abuse, a victim of disease, a victim to abuse.
This was and never will be my fault.
It isn’t my fault that people, real, physical people have been purposely gas lighting my soul.
So that one day, when I flicked a match on to really see what was going on,
I self destructed.
But what these people didn’t expect was for me to survive.
I didn’t implode, I seethed.
I waited in the shadows, by the light of a roaring fire,
forging my words in the fire that was lit by their very wrath,
tempering my armour,
sharpening my blades.
I couldn’t emerge until I learned to smoulder.
A slow, controlled burn.
And I did.
But in that process, people would pour water on my coals.
Disrupt my process.
Other times, I’d allow it to burn too bright.
I would blind myself, not able to see that I was directing the fire in the wrong direction.
This cyclical relationship of wrath and shame overtook my entire life.
But I’ve figured it out and I must atone.
I’m sorry to have hurt those in the process,
but I am not sorry for those who didn’t think I was worth enough to try and understand.
I am discovering for the first time that I am human.
I am not a monster, psycho or ice queen.
I am just one, regular human being, trying to heal.
Trying to heal through people ripping my scars wide open;
lashing back out at me when they see that I’m bleeding.
So what was left was a bird trapped in a cage.
With broken wings and endless fingers prodding at my injuries.
I am not a science project, I am a girl.
I am a survivor.