Sometimes it’s better to stay up all night, to load up on caffeine to make it through the day. It’s worse when I fall asleep. I wish the nightmares would come to you, instead of me. You are the one who caused it, anyway. I trusted you. That’s what little girls that age do. They can’t comprehend “lies”. Innocence is a one-time deal, you can never get it back. And a child without her innocence, well, that’s just a recipe for disaster.
And that’s what happened to me. I let you invade my dreams, I let you be the reason I had to numb myself from the pain, instead of face it head-on and get through it. You were my excuse for many years. And when I came to this realization after clearing my head and getting sober, I hated you even more for indirectly putting me through the longest, most hellish 14 years of my still very young life. It has taken me time, an innumerable amount of tissues, and lots of therapy sessions to learn that I can’t hate you. By hating you, I am still trapped by you. I was letting you rule my life, caged by your impressionable, dispicable actions. Some days I still have a hard time; some days I still want to hate you; some days I hate myself for forgiving you. But I do forgive you. I have come to see that you are a sick person, even sicker than me. There is no hope for you that I can see, but you should never stop seeking help. I don’t know where you are now, I don’t know if you’re dead or alive, but this is my letter to you, to let you know that I am no longer your prisoner. I have accepted, and therefore I have escaped.