![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The same fight. Always the same, always pointless and sharp, words cut to hurt and emotions fraying at the edges. No real reason for this fight.
He pushes my buttons, jerks at all my emotional strings until I can't handle the tension and I'm angry and upset, on the verge of tears and violence. Trembling as I hold it all in, and I try to back off, try to force myself calm, try to take a breath. Every breath in, soothing as it's supposed to be, only gives him more time to push me farther, closer to the breaking point.
I turn, I try not to let it out, I run.
Edges spilling out, darkness slipping through the grasp of my fingers, like an icicle held tight in warm hands. Dripping, until it's sharp enough to cut, until the hands holding it are numb enough to let it all go.
Because he won't let me take the time I need to breathe, to lock the darkness in tighter. He pushes, stands between me and the exit, and I become nothing more than a cornered, frightened animal. Fight or flight, but what happens when your option for flight is taken from you?
Bare your teeth and fight, little one, because the only way you'll come out on top now is to win, by physical strength if that's what it takes. Is that what he wants, because he knows it shames me into losing? Because I lash out, I strike first, and he won't strike back, never will. Because that's the only promise he ever tried so hard to keep, the lie that held out for the longest.
So I hit and kick and scream and fight until there's nothing left in me, until I either get my way or lose, nothing left. A hollow shell, no light inside, just seething darkness at the edges, feral. Teeth and claws and instinct. Fighting until I win, feel the surge of darkness, pride and triumph, and a slinking sense of guilt that follows after with its tail between its legs.
Because what I've done was wrong. Felt justified, but it was wrong; the fight was never meant to be a fight, emotional or otherwise. The push and pull and twisting, the sharpness of a nerve hit just right that left something numb for hours after. The bitter taste of winning something I should never have to win.
Or the aching of the losing, the soreness felt for weeks when I can't finish what I start. When the first few blows give way to shattered tears and curses, to a broken down and ugly little girl. I don't remember how this goes, I only know just how it ends.
It ends when I can't handle any more. When the darkness starts to eat at me, and I can see it haunt my eyes. I can feel it when I look at him, in the fear that anything will shift the balance, start the bitter angry words. I can feel it in my heart when I forget the words I've said, when I resent a promise made.
Promises were broken on all sides. I turned away and found myself a better path; he did what he always did the best. He twisted up the words, the intent was surely harm to me no matter what his twisted logic said. Tied a knot into my heart and left me torn and scarred.
I make no promise lightly now, I choose my words with care. I trust rarely, if at all, and shy away from anything that I might hurt, that might hurt me. I can't ever go through that again.
So when I find the urge is rising and I can't control my hands, I tremble, weeping, for you can never understand. If I ever touch you once that way... That will be the end. If you back me in a corner, if you leave me with no choice; I'm a feral creature then and you will not find my voice of reason, buried somewhere deep inside.
Have patience with me, let me breathe. I won't run off forever; I swore to change my ways and I will return to make amends. I'm more afraid of myself than anyone else in this world, because I know just what I'm capable of.
He pushes my buttons, jerks at all my emotional strings until I can't handle the tension and I'm angry and upset, on the verge of tears and violence. Trembling as I hold it all in, and I try to back off, try to force myself calm, try to take a breath. Every breath in, soothing as it's supposed to be, only gives him more time to push me farther, closer to the breaking point.
I turn, I try not to let it out, I run.
Edges spilling out, darkness slipping through the grasp of my fingers, like an icicle held tight in warm hands. Dripping, until it's sharp enough to cut, until the hands holding it are numb enough to let it all go.
Because he won't let me take the time I need to breathe, to lock the darkness in tighter. He pushes, stands between me and the exit, and I become nothing more than a cornered, frightened animal. Fight or flight, but what happens when your option for flight is taken from you?
Bare your teeth and fight, little one, because the only way you'll come out on top now is to win, by physical strength if that's what it takes. Is that what he wants, because he knows it shames me into losing? Because I lash out, I strike first, and he won't strike back, never will. Because that's the only promise he ever tried so hard to keep, the lie that held out for the longest.
So I hit and kick and scream and fight until there's nothing left in me, until I either get my way or lose, nothing left. A hollow shell, no light inside, just seething darkness at the edges, feral. Teeth and claws and instinct. Fighting until I win, feel the surge of darkness, pride and triumph, and a slinking sense of guilt that follows after with its tail between its legs.
Because what I've done was wrong. Felt justified, but it was wrong; the fight was never meant to be a fight, emotional or otherwise. The push and pull and twisting, the sharpness of a nerve hit just right that left something numb for hours after. The bitter taste of winning something I should never have to win.
Or the aching of the losing, the soreness felt for weeks when I can't finish what I start. When the first few blows give way to shattered tears and curses, to a broken down and ugly little girl. I don't remember how this goes, I only know just how it ends.
It ends when I can't handle any more. When the darkness starts to eat at me, and I can see it haunt my eyes. I can feel it when I look at him, in the fear that anything will shift the balance, start the bitter angry words. I can feel it in my heart when I forget the words I've said, when I resent a promise made.
Promises were broken on all sides. I turned away and found myself a better path; he did what he always did the best. He twisted up the words, the intent was surely harm to me no matter what his twisted logic said. Tied a knot into my heart and left me torn and scarred.
I make no promise lightly now, I choose my words with care. I trust rarely, if at all, and shy away from anything that I might hurt, that might hurt me. I can't ever go through that again.
So when I find the urge is rising and I can't control my hands, I tremble, weeping, for you can never understand. If I ever touch you once that way... That will be the end. If you back me in a corner, if you leave me with no choice; I'm a feral creature then and you will not find my voice of reason, buried somewhere deep inside.
Have patience with me, let me breathe. I won't run off forever; I swore to change my ways and I will return to make amends. I'm more afraid of myself than anyone else in this world, because I know just what I'm capable of.
Tags: