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A Traumatic Childhood Relived

The worst experience of my life was, and always will be, my childhood. Although, when people around me claim it was one of the best times of their life, I just nod along like a spineless chicken. You see, if I go against the flock on this one, people would always ask me why and I wouldn’t really know what to say.

How do I even begin to explain the level of emotional and physical abuse at the hand of my father from birth? How do I explain my older sister’s physical abuse against me? How do I explain I was isolated throughout this time by peers in school? How do I explain my very turbulent year of repeated sexual assault from a childhood friend?

The sad truth is: I can’t.

So, I nod along because there is nothing in me that wants to lay claim to these traumatic events. There is nothing in me that wants to relive them over and over and over again in my memory. I just can’t because I don’t want to.

So I paint over these painful memories with the colourful, happy and generic ones that all my other peers share. Because at the end of the day, all I’ve ever wanted was to fit in and left alone.

That is all I want.

Nakedstreetkid out xx

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