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In a dream, that is a dream but quite real, she stares at the pieces of broken glass in her palms, she watches the blood stains, the scars that she can never explain for many years. She feels the darkest rage, as though unjustified pains have hit her and there are no explanations for them. She wonders about the love she lost, the trust she broke, the fears she gave in to, the dreams she built trampled on by people who didn’t care to pick up a piece back up, the emotional and psychological abuse that made her feel paralyzed, afraid, locked for months. She remembers wondering why she cannot explain her pains, why the blood causes her insecurities to magnify, why she feels polluted with the thoughts of others telling her she is ugly and undeserving. She takes her rage out on some parts of her world, shaking them to the core. She clings to the pillars of dependence, letting the ones she love guide her; whether they do it too subtly or outwardly obvious, she doesn’t care. She feels the terror of being reduced to nothing again and she lives in the world with imaginary gates.

Through the storms, she flies. She breaks, she fights, she gives in, she loses hope and she attempts to hide the exhaustion again.

In a dream that is true and clear, she stares at her grown hands, wondering if she deserves too much pain. Why must she lose belief in the personal realm of her mind before her life even really started? Why must she give blood to those who destroyed her? Why must sadness and fears cripple her from being the person that she really is, from being the voice of her own? Why must she copy another person’s thoughts and judgments, until her heart will become numb? What is the point of living with a numb heart? She asks herself these questions, realizes that she has reached a higher point than most people. Nothing destroys her enough because she stops clinging. She stops needing. She stands. Nothing kills her because nothing will stop her from validating herself everyday and every night. She stops being the carpet for people to walk on and design with painful needles. She might give them a piece of her mind they never expected. She stops wanting to completely shut out her true voice, her true heart, her true self.
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