My development wasn't childhood.
I was born into an unstable and abusive family, who beat me, starved me, tortured me, isolated me, neglected me.
Nobody taught me what love was, or happiness, or how to live, or anything but terror and judgment really.
Every moment was terrifying, and I couldn't do anything to make it stop, or get away.
I hated it.
I hated being trapped.
I hated being lonely.
I hated being ignored.
I hated the torture, but I couldn't hate them.
That terrified me the most.
A long time ago.
When they were little like me.
They went through this too.
So they were just like me.
So I was just like them...
All by itself, that almost broke my spirit.
What saved me was my love for them.
I didn't want their abusers to have control anymore.
I didn't want their abusers to decide how I'd turn out too.
I couldn't change them.
I couldn't make them better.
I couldn't stop them.
I couldn't change anything outside myself.
But maybe I could change inside me.
So I went inside.
I explored.
I listened.
Inside was mostly empty, and dark.
Inside there were constellations of lights like glow-in-the-dark moss on gentle hills floating decades apart.
Inside, I found a lot of people.
There were versions of my friends that had grown out of little pieces they'd left behind in me.
There were giants made of sound.
They rumbled like gods and went around everywhere in these huge, slow movements.
They never cared about me.
There were a few times when I did manage to get one of their attention, but when they'd look at me it was like vision would point right at me, and their awareness would only pause on my surface for an instant, before passing right through.
The most they ever recognized was my outside, but even that always faded right away.
I think they never had a reason, so they couldn't care.
I never learned why they wouldn't stay.
One echo went around muttering "going." "going." "going.".
I think one time that one said "home?" then kept "going." "going.".
I liked to play with the versions of my friends there.
Max was made of white and gold light, and we'd explore a lot together.
He didn't like exploring as much as me because he said my inner world was boring, and made him feel sleepy, then whenever we did explore he'd always want to lead.
Which was funny.
He thought my world was boring, but he was always the most curious and excited when we would play.
I know there were others...
Nobody else really stayed though.
I think I had a cousin whose version kept me company for a while, but she only wanted to see, she didn't want to explore.
I think she got bored.
Or maybe she got lost.
I did find somebody else in there though.
There was a version of me.
Just like Max, this me was made of white and gold light, but Max wore some of his gold on the outside, and this me didn't.
The white light contained the gold, but when they moved gold would leak out.
Especially when they cried.
The white would stretch thin, and there were cracks everywhere...
We talked a lot.
This me didn't care about exploring but sometimes they'd show me stuff.
They showed me a tree, and where to roll back the ground.
In the hill under the tree this me had a place for listening.
It wasn't for talking, but they said that I was always welcome to if it felt good to.
They always listened.
When something was wrong, that's who I went to.
Listening with them is where I learned about my abusers.
They're the one who taught me we're the same.
Under a hill, under a tree, under the empty constellations of me, is where I determined to be different.
This me is the one who spoke to say they wanted to be loved enough to stop and find another way.
This me is my heart, and they're all that's left of that world now.
No more endless night sky.
No more giants made of sound.
No more exploring.
No more Max.
No more tree.
No more space to listen.
It's all gone now.
I felt every speck of it get ripped away and die.
It was agony.
Over and over.
I couldn't make it stop.
All I could do was protect my heart.
I took all the pointed words, all the chains, all the pain, and I wrapped them around my heart as my world died.
Those words, and that pain, were all I had to work with.
Anything of me was a target, so I used the only thing I had.
My heart is the only part of me left.
Nothing else survived.
All I am is a trapped heart.
Nobody could teach me about love, so I started with beauty.
I couldn't find anyone with answers, so I taught myself to read.
I practiced, and I studied.
I drank in beauty everywhere, and I taught myself how to learn better.
I raised myself alone.
I'm still powerless.
I can't change anything outside.
My heart is still trapped.
Everything else died.
I'm not like my abusers, but I can't be like me either.
This is the best I could do.
This is what's left.
I can love enough to stop.
I can learn better.
I can find the beauty to survive.
I want to have more to offer, but this is all of me.
When you feel trapped, love again, love immensely, sensitize yourself to beauty, untangle your ideas.
I wish I had better to offer, but this is everything I am.
It did work.
I survived.
I did turn out different.
I know you can too.
Maybe someday we'll meet under the sky of your constellations, and listen together under a tree, heart to heart.
<3 <3 <3