Tribute to my Childhood (Trigger Warning)

I wish I could forget many things.

If you notice, most my posts are self-loathing.

This is not such. This was no fault of my own, and it is not easy to read.

Not easy to digest. Not easy to feel. Or to forgive. I never will.

But I have long forgiven myself.

So I urge you thoughtful reader to step away if you cannot handle a childhood abusive experience. I share it not to seek sympathy, nor to win a challenge- but to honour a little girl with lamb sheets and teddy bear wallpaper.

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I was not assaulted in person- my skin shone diamond, untouched, but my mouth was taped and hands threaded by heavy rope with the threat of my family.

Now, of course I know someone online did not know me nor was able to find my family.

But a little girl treasures her family more than gold, and was willing to trade her body for the treasure of her loved ones.

I was forced with hands shaking horribly to dissect a shaving razor to use the metal against my soft, supple flesh. And with fingers inked in my own life essence, had to photograph the proof. Had to do far worse to myself than that, all because someone with a blurry photo of a young girl asked if I wanted friends.

What healthy, happy ten year old would have been on a 'Make Friends' app if not.

I will never heal from that. I wish I could. I wish I could forget. But forgetting would be to allow that child to suffer alone. To allow a little girl with bushy hair in her pink pyjamas to share the trauma alone.

So, perhaps this is against the challenge, to say I don't wish I could forget it. But I wish I could stop it. To step in with a warm hand, and lower the iPod onto the fleet of teddy bears and direct that sweet little girl to the pantry for a snack. To show her big brothers the messages. I wish I could comfort her, at the very least. But I cant.

So this is a haunt I shall forever be plagued by, seeking comfort in liquor or drugs like many other poets before me.