This repulsive thing you've cursed me with, forcing me to live out the rest of my days with its weight perched on my shoulders. Your chiselled physique and ability to temporarily transform your disgusting, blood curdling true colours into desirable, amazing colours may dazzle those around us, but I know what you're really capable of. I've felt the full blow of your personality. I continue to feel it, daily, repeatedly, and this is the very curse you've left upon my body and engraved in my mind for eternity. I was fooled into believing I was free, but it was short-lived. You came back, just as angry, and just as brutal as ever. Your fits of rage and barbarity have not changed over the years, and I know the pain you inflict well. I often find myself reminiscing while laying on the bathroom floor, naked and beaten, thinking about my life a few years back, and how I was in the very same situation. My temporary moving on from you has been wrenched backwards, to its very familiar foetal position. Watching my blood drip out onto the floor is like nostalgia, a beautifully horrific feeling of nostalgia.
Waking every morning to an aching, bruised body is something I am regrettably beginning to, once again, become accustomed to. Sitting down is hard, when you've brutalised the very thing that makes me a woman. The daily ritual of bandages and make up is what I must do if I want to face myself in the mirror. You fooled me with your magic act of wit and charm. I allowed myself to bring down walls I built, protecting myself from people like you. I failed myself. I'm a truly ugly person, both inside and out. You make me the ugly person I am on the outside, with your fists, but on the inside I've failed.
I'll keep this secret safe, and maybe one day the pain will disappear. Maybe one day I'll disappear.
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Sustainer
