TW: Ab*se, G*slighting.
Everyone wants to be a hero but no one wants to help.
Thats the fantasy, that some strong guy will come along and fight on your behalf. But they want to control you instead. “I’ll keep you safe, all you have to do is this, and this, and this, and this, and this…” and this is you selling your autonomy, your peace, your sense of self and worth, moment after moment.
Then it’s him causing the fear, amplifying it, under a guise of showing you where the dangers are. Always pointing away, so you only see the length of the shadow they’re casting over your life while pretending to be the sun. To convince you that instead of being a burning bright star, that you are the weight of the void, that the burden of you is the cost they pay, so you do everything for them in exchange because its only fair. They are HERE, for YOU, didn’t you know?!
Then you can’t make yourself small enough to make them feel big enough and because of that, you won’t ever be ‘enough’ for them. Thats why it gets worse and they take more, and more, and more, and more and more. And to get away, sometimes you have to make yourself nothing. Feel nothing, be nothing, say nothing. Just to be free. To be still. And that silence, she becomes your friend because you’re so used to the noise of fighting for every moment that just to be still, feels like the only way to breathe again.
But that’s the fantasy, that someone will come along and fight on your behalf to make you safe. And you blame yourself because their masks seemed soft enough to let you start pouring out all your secrets and of course you shouldn’t have trusted them at their word. Silly little girl. Didn’t you know there are terrible people out there?! Not me though, I’m one of the good ones.
That’s why he waits and lurks and bides his time. Why do it yourself when you can get other bad people to do the hard part and he can be the saviour. Collecting you all around him like he’s the King of Broken Dreams and you’re the harem of the hurt. His Broken Dreams. Because its never about you, it never was, never is, never will be. It’s always been about him, it always was you see? Didn’t you figure that out yet? Silly little girl. Probably still believe in Santa.
He’ll tell you that its your fault cos deep down you knew, you had to know, the kind of person he was. And its your fault, you did this, remember? You could see right through him and that means you wanted it to happen too, otherwise you wouldn’t have been there and its fate remember? And he put money in your pocket, so it wasn’t like you weren’t getting something out of it cos that’s what all girls are really after, that’s all they care about right? But why are you crying, its not like its the worst thing you’ve been through, he knows all your secret scars. He used to love when you told him about it, remember? And now he’s out 50 bucks and he didn’t even get off, so he’s the one who should really be upset about it. And look at what you were wearing after all! Cute things are irresistible, remember? Fate, not fear.
And maybe you’re the one he should be scared of, because you let him do all those things, knowing full well he couldn’t stop himself and now you are rejecting him, just like his mum did and you always abandon him, they always do. He’s the real victim, didn’t you know? That’s why he has to make sure that people see how useful, and clever and special he is. So they will protect him, and tell you that he’s so lovely and kind and caring and you must have wanted it to happen too, otherwise you wouldn’t have been there and its fate remember? Fate, not fear.
And it was you that was screaming, to stop, just stop, just stop, please stop, just stop, please leave me alone. Remember? Your screaming makes him feel unsafe because he’s the real victim, didn’t you know? He drove all the way over to your house and won’t leave because you make him feel unsafe. Because you’re no longer small, no longer nothing. Your voice no longer choking up your throat with the bile of a suffocating silence. With a voice shaking as violent as he was but you never forget the cold look of detached hatred. You had abandoned him, broken the promise all girls are supposed to abide by to comfort, placate and care for. After all, we were His Broken Dreams. Because its never about us, it never was, never is, never will be. It’s always been about him, it always was you see? Didn’t you figure that out yet? Silly little girls.
And then you sit in the silence, the void, the nothing. You breath it into every part of you and learn to be like stone. Grey, unmoving, unyeilding. As he fills the world with all the poisoned platitudes, shoring up the compound, ensuring the story heard is his. You abandoned him, remember? He’s the real victim. He forgives you, of course, if only you’d talk to him again he might forgive you for telling people what he did, don’t you know how much it hurt him? He’s glad you apologised for lying about him abusing you, if only you’d apologise for it he could be your friend again. That’s all he wants, another chance, remember?
And eventually, you find in the stillness that you remember who you are, the calm and the center. The music finds its way back to you because you’re learning the safety of your own company. That stillness that existed before them and will long after. And piece by peace, by piece, by peace you learn its safe to feel again and learn what its like to feel your own voice, trust your own voice, know your own voice. But now there is a violent nausea that screams at you, if someone tries to step over your now iron-clad boundaries, that reminds you; it was never about you. Its always been about him, remember? Those are his broken dreams.
And yours are mended now, they grow and change and sing and smile and float. Made of a love that he will never know. With worlds he will never be a part of. Put back together, piece by peace, by piece, by peace, and you breathe in the stillness, breathe out the noise and no longer taste the burning of a suffocating silence.
And on a not so particular day, you meet another dream, and you find that your voice doesn’t shake this time. That its filled with compassion, kindness and a strength that used to feel familiar. And that path you couldn’t see before, that wasn’t there until you walked it, becomes the footsteps other dreams follow. And then you find yourself smiling, seeing another dream finding her feet, being seen, heard and believed. Reminding you that it was never really about you, remember? Didn’t you figure that out yet? I did.
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