30 Days

People expect me to move on, I'm sure. I don't know how much longer I can talk about Z before everyone gets sick of it and I become isolated all over again. Going public with his name and my experiences has just led to more people coming out about things he has done. It hasn't stopped. For most it's a sign of solidarity but that solidarity will only last for as long as a FB status stays visible. For me, it never goes away. Every damn time someone comes forward about something else he has done I feel stupid, pathetic, and either devasted or filled with rage. I feel sick. My brain is decaying. I can barely hold on to information and I always forget what the fuck I was about to do. I stopped crying. I know I need to cry but once again something has shifted inside of me.

I know this means he is getting everything he ever wanted. He feeds off of destruction. It doesn't matter that I know this. It does not matter that I am far away from him. It doesn't matter that he will never touch me again. I still feel him on me. I feel him inside of me.

I can't peacefully exist knowing he is harming someone else. How am I supposed to move on? How has he gotten away with this for so long? A part of me already knows that answer. It's because of people like me. We believe him. We fall for whichever character he decides to play. He finds people who want to be loved and he gives just enough, but not too much. Z hates to give anything. It was the hidden violence that gave him life.

He used to take my arm and twist it behind my back and push it up until my shoulder would almost pop out. Afterwards, whenever the pain showed up, I would say it must be from sleeping on the couch or from wearing a bra. That's how fucking broken I was. It's a gift I carry with me today, the pain that won't go away. When I'm stressed or I've been lifting something "too heavy" I am reminded of how I couldn't fucking understand then, but I do now.

One day I noticed he wasn't paying attention and I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back and pulled up, just hard enough that he couldn't move. He was so angry and annoyed that I had the control. I didn't even hurt him. He was just stuck. Under my grip. For less than 10 seconds, and those are the seconds that help me hold on. When you come at him head on, you see him for who he really is. He is weak. He is familiar with his darkness, and he is okay with that. He's okay with empty promises because he is empty. I don't know if he was born that way or if he was made that way.

All I know is I won't ever completely understand why, and I have to be okay with that.

I made it 30 days.