Alone

I used to wonder as I traveled through the hell of my childhood at what point is to break me. As each more crushing event happened I would wonder is this one that is worthy of the story about how the girl was broken. I moved into my adulthood still resilient to some extent even after this turmoil. One step in front of the other into the future. Never being able to form real connections with anything or anyone. Detached I still continued to look for that event and when it happened I knew it was happening. But it seem to be habit to move those feet forward and it didn’t seem real.

It wasn’t the day my little baby was yanked from my body even as his little heart beat could be heard. It was the day I realized I was the only cared. In fact it was the day I released that everything inside of me was only in me and there was not one single entity outside of myself that gave a shit.