The physical fatigue, the travelling, severe lack of sleep and endless debauchery has finally caught up with me. My body feels used up. I need to rest, I need to let it heal...It's the only thing I have that is truly mine.
Or is it?
So many hands and mouths once I turned twelve, still a child.
My body feels used, defiled.
It's a horrible feeling when you've been fighting to keep this feeling out of your head and yet it all comes back one day, out of nowhere.
I rewind to being fourteen, discovering sex again, pushing myself to face my nightmares so they disappear once and for all. Brave, brave little girl.
I got my first tattoo when I was seventeen-so fierce, cocky almost.
A new person, the strongest you'd see.
And today I feel weak and so vulnerable.
His hands, cruelest I've seen, taking from me what is mine.
I want to scream and tell him that I am only a child.
But I am barely twelve, so defenseless and dumb.
I am unaware of human cruelty, greed, lust.
But it doesn't matter anymore, it's all in the past.
Tomorrow I'll shower and try to scrub him off me again.
My body has experienced much love as well. I will not be a hypocrite.
It has felt the tenderest of kisses and the purest of touch.
Some have been so kind, I am grateful. I keep them in my heart, always.
Maybe in another decade or so I'll realise how strong I have been through it all.
Tonight, however, I wish I had some reassurance from another soul.
Such is life. Yin and Yang.
