I saw you last week.
You looked the same as I remembered you and still,
you scared me.
I thought I had gotten over the fear,
but still like a child I hid from the monster,
shrinking myself in the car beneath the window in hopes you did not see me,
how cowardly is that?
How can you still have this much effect on me?
I feel like I am that teenager who felt so lost and afraid of everything,
I turned to you for the map to show the way,
but you were gone.
I was left to be beaten by the brutes.
It's been years past and I still have those phantom hands on me.
Yet you go around telling the world that I was the problem,
that I ruined your life,
that I am the crazy one.
I was a child.
I am picking up the puzzle pieces of myself that you decided to rip from me.
Trying to be the better version that you always wanted for me,
but now,
you don't even know my name,
and that is a power I like having.
About the Creator
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.