I Remember

I remember.
Could I ever forget?

The shades of manipulation
when you leveraged
my desire to be a "good girl"
into a desire to not be found wanting in your eyes.

The power in those eyes
when you looked right through me,
like I had no name and
no self that existed
outside of who I was to you.

The apathy you wore like your favorite pair of jeans when you
interacted with me in your bedroom.
I really was nothing to you,
and you made sure I knew it.

The casual way you hurt me,
like it required no effort on your part.
It was like brushing your teeth or combing your hair,
just one more item on your mental checklist of things to be done that day.

The mindset you had that
lying to everyone was justified because
truth and
honesty
were not as important as
appearance and
reputation,
both of which you mastered.

What I gave up to be
your "special girl":
My identity, my innocence, my sense of self-worth were the first victims,
followed by my ability to trust, my desire to love, my willingness to live.

There were no survivors.

But I've built a new life...

... Where I am my own person, resilient and independent.

... Where I worry less about how others perceive me and focus more on how I see myself.

... Where I finally know that I deserve to be treated kindly, not hurt; to be loved, not treated with indifference.

You stripped me of everything I was back then, turning me into a victim.

Now, I have clothed myself with strength and love, becoming the survivor you never thought I could be.

I remember.
But you're getting easier to forget.