Wounds don’t heal if you don’t dress and protect them. The fucked up part of your life isn’t going to knit itself whole as long as you keep seeking out unpleasant men to toy with your deformities. A guy who gets hard while tattooing his initials on to your stunted self-esteem isn’t going to help you grow past your misfortunes and maladies.
But that’s the thing, isn’t it? When you find a man who wants to see and play with the ugliness in your mirror, it feels better than getting better feels. It’s such a horribly seductive unreality, when he looks past the objective you to the worthless piece of shit you know you are, and decides he likes your peculiar stink. When you hear him say “You’re a stupid little cunt,” it must be like hearing your first honest words, and realizing your truth has always been a vulgar poem no one could bring themselves to recite.
So no, I don’t know if you’ll be broken forever. But if you are, I suspect we’ll both know why.