It’s not over

some days i want nothing more than to be over it. so much so that i close my eyes and grasp my hands on the railing of my bed shaking back and forth while i try to shake the grasp of his hands off of my shoulders. i don’t want to be held down anymore. my body and mind are connected but sometimes i think that the only way to take care of my mind is to stop feeling the sensations of my body. on the hard days i wish that i didn’t have a body at all. if i didn’t have a body this wouldn’t have ever happened. if i didn’t have a body i wouldn’t feel his hands slamming me against a cold wall. my body is tired of being checked to make sure there are no bruises when he holds me down, or grasps my wrist, or feels up my breasts, or gropes my leg. he does this again and again to me, as days turn to nights and weeks turn to years. and although this all takes place in my head, i feel as powerless as if someone were holding a gun to my head. some days i wish that person would just pull the trigger. i ultimately have two options on any given day. live or die. and somehow i have mustered up the courage to choose life every day so far. but many days living feels like a death sentence. what am i living for if i am giving so much power to my abuser. i don’t want to be in prison anymore, but I feel as though i am serving life without parole. i feel his presence in one way or another every day. ive been feeling and feeling and talking and talking and i feel like nobody hears me. nobody understands what i went through to be still standing on solid ground today.