It’s always been a struggle, being the girl who needed proof.
Never accepting anyone’s assumptions, always testing the truth. The scar on your right hand, from an open flame you just had to touch; the scar on your right ventricle, from the cocaine you snorted just to see if you could stop. The love you’ve withheld because of the love you couldn’t feel, and the peace you’ve been denied because you can’t believe it’s real.
But now you’re in a sack.
Now you’re lost in sweat and fear and a hazy, woven dimness that’s worse than darkness. Everything beyond the sack is so far away; especially the exposed half of you that interests them most. The half they want to see, and taste, and despoil. The half that feels so cold when the rest is so terribly hot, the slowly numbing half that doesn’t run or kick or flail so much as twitch involuntarily at the distant suggestion of a touch.
It would be so easy to disconnect from that which you cannot see, to reject that which you cannot trust. To save yourself, by being yourself.
It’s always been a struggle, but this is your time to shine.