I think I am coming to the root of this. I don’t know how to say this. I came to equate sadism with love. I recoil as I type this. My eyes are welling up with tears. I think this will take me a while to write. I have a part of me who never went through any of this. It floated somewhere on top of it all, pristine. Then, I have the part who went through it and broke.
I had a true love. It was from my grandmother. It was a pure love. It never compromised me. It felt safe. I could relax. This love saved me because my house was lies. I told myself I would never stop seeing the lies but one day, I couldn’t see them anymore.