#tw: mentions of childhood abuse

[lostmf]

I’m not sure I deserve it ..

[incognitopolls]

"Abusive" includes forms of abuse like physical, mental, emotional, or any other form.

–

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[small-but-mightyy]

[huntquinlan]

it’s honestly a shame that sjm is not an author who deals in allegory or is an author who would be able to tactfully write this because i honestly feel like azriel’s scars are such a missed opportunity. i’m putting this under a read more because the topic is sensitive and will be tagged accordingly.

while azriel’s burn scars in canon serve as a physical representation and reminder of the abuse he survived from his father and brothers, when i was reflecting on them and azriel’s own complex relationship with his romantic life and sexuality i realized that if the author of acotar was anyone other than sjm azriel’s scars could easily be read as symbolic representations of trauma from csa. it comes down to them being on his hands as well, hands so often being the conduit by which any type of physical intimacy is initiated.

i think this interpretation is strengthened by azriel’s aversion to fire while fire has been associated with incredibly passionate sex in universe (“fire in his blood and fucks like it too”).

what it ultimately comes down to, for me, is azriel’s centuries long obsession with mor. which comes off as incredibly comphet and strange until the eris reveal, which brings to light the incredibly charged relationship between eris and azriel. and it leads me to wonder how much of it really is mor, if it’s not just the safety of the idea of her to cover what azriel really desires because he’s functionally unable to process that.

not only are the illyrians written as incredibly traditional, but there is no indication given they are accepting of same sex attraction. azriel, who suffered so extremely at the hands of his father and brothers, that he still bares the physical burn scars to his hands, having any attraction to the heir of autumn, practically the crown prince of fire, would be incomprehensible to azriel’s mind. and any part of him that did comprehend it would be terrified and probably ashamed.

eris, of course, represents everything azriel fears and despises. but more importantly, he is the opportunity for azriel to heal from past traumas and fully accept himself and his sexuality.

this interpretation doesn’t negate the possibility for ‘kinky’ azriel either. since everyone seems to be preoccupied with whether he can be a leather dom daddy or not. frankly, any sort of bdsm practice would offer azriel a sort of distance during intimacy (depending on the act and his role) but above all else, enthusiastic and clear consent.

[furiousgoldfish]

Abuse seemed normal and justifiable to me, the entire time I was living in it as a kid. I didn't question it, the justifications and defenses would appear in my head before I would even start to get upset about it. 'They didn't mean that, they did it to make me stronger, to teach me how hard life is. They only did it out of anger, they wouldn't have done it if I didn't make them angry. It happened because I did x. They're my parents, they're doing what's best for me. I just don't understand yet because I'm not old enough but eventually I'll get why they're acting this way.'

It feels like that when you've never had a life away from abuse; it is the only normal way of life you've ever known, and implication that it might not be normal are too scary to explore, but also completely unbelievable. Because you would have to believe that you yourself are in a special situation where normal rules no longer apply. Rules like 'your parents love you and do everything for your own good', 'you need to listen to your parents, they know what they're talking about', and 'Your parents are just trying their best'. And you feel like you're nothing special, nothing that happens to you is special, nothing is out of the ordinary, you're feeling even less than normal, you feel like something is deeply wrong with you, rather than the situation you're in. Of course your parents are normal, and mean well, it's you who needs to get their shit together and stop being, whatever you are, it's unclear.

It can seem from an outside perspective, that a child would recognize at least some of the abuse for what it was, even if subjected to the rules of 'parents love you, they know best, you need to obey them', if the abuse is extreme, but no, they wouldn't. Looking back at my experience I was able to justify not only the physical violence, neglect, insults and humiliation, but even the constant, very detailed death threats that would constantly come out of the abusers. I listened to them describe to me how they would kill me, often implying they should have killed me already, and all I thought was 'they are just saying that, they're not actually going to kill me, they're saying it because they're angry, I shouldn't take this personally'. When I think about that now, I am appalled, you would think anyone subjected to constant detailed death threats would know for sure that this is wrong. But I was also hearing about how they 'sacrificed everything for me' and 'nobody else would ever love me like this', and how could I have known, as a kid, which one of these are lies, and which are the truth? I was heavily pressured to believe that they loved me. How would I have known that my parents had reasons to convince me that their murderous intentions were fake, but the love they had for me was real?

Without a clear reference to how parental love looks like, there's no way to tell. And if you ever do see a depiction of a loving family, your abusive family will be very quick to tell you that they're "doing it wrong", "spoiling that child", and "created a selfish brat". And how would you know that this isn't true? You don't yet know that they have reasons to lie to you. You've been told they're your parents and they only want the best for you, like all parents do. They just don't want you to grow up a selfish brat, so that's why they don't do all of the listening, hugging, caring, paying attention, conversing, and advocating for you. To make sure you're strong and responsible as a human being. It makes sense when you're a kid. When you're an adult, you understand that it never made any sense, that shaming good parents only served the purpose of making you feel like you're having a normal experience, and that your parents were right to abuse you, even superior for it.

It's possible to endure any amount of abuse and to be convinced that it's normal. I've talked to adults who've been sexually abused and trafficked by their parents and still believed the parents loved them. There's no limit to what you can convince a child is normal. Any abuse can be hidden by a guise of normalcy.

[a-sip-of-milo]

Nobody ever understands the affects of reactive abuse until they've experienced it themselves.

It shows particularly well when people would rather blame a child for reacting rather than the adult for abusing them in the first place.

When I was fourteen, my parents held me down to my bed, locked my window so I couldn't escape, took everything they knew I loved away from me (including contact with my grandmother, all my books, my music, all my diaries, etc.) and my step dad threatened to sit in the corner of my room and watch me for the entire night if I tried to escape. All while my three younger siblings watched me.

As a result, I had my first panic attack. It led me to attempting to break my window, smashing my mirror, becoming physically violent towards either of my parents when they attempted to come into my room, and nearly overdosing later that night after everyone had gone to bed.

For years, people ignored what I had gone through to get to that point. My parents had crafted such an elaborate story that painted themselves as the victims of my terrible abuse that nobody thought to question how I reached that point. Not the police. Not my school. Not even over half of my own family believed me. The extent of my suicidal ideations nearly put me in hospital multiple times over the following years, even succeeding once.

Reacting to abuse in this way is a cry for help. It's the equivalent of self-harm in my book, except directed towards others. That's not to say that it's okay, but more people seriously need to start looking at the bigger picture before making assumptions.

This blog is safe for people with NPD, BPD, HPD and ASPD.

[nothing0fnothing]

My mom always used to tell me that I was so much more mature than the boys my age because "girls mature faster" and always told me to date older when I started dating.

The men in my family would tell me that the best way for me to succeed was to 1) get really thin 2) get really hot 3) marry an elderly man months from death 4) inherit his money after he died.

Constant discussions about how I shouldn't be dating teenage boys because teenage boys "only want one thing" and I should be waiting to date till my mid 20s when they've "calmed down".

But yeah it was totally my fault when a man in a position of power over me in his late 20s started dming me when I was 13 and I thought it was normal.

[420technoblazeit]

the fact that we don't see john in any of the episodes showing sam and dean's childhood is so interesting to me. like we'll occasionally see dean talking with him on the phone or a brief shot of him from behind, but we never actually see him interact with them on screen. and maybe i'm reading too much into this but i feel like it makes you rely on sam and dean's impressions of him

it's hard to come to your own conclusions about how he acted in their childhood because you don't get to see it directly, you just have to piece things together from how everyone else talks about him. and this framing is especially interesting in the early seasons because dean hasn't yet realized how badly he mistreated them and he's still in denial about how abusive john was. so there's a disconnect between how sam talks about him and how dean talks about him, which changes over the course of the series. idk i just think having the viewer realize that john wasn't the perfect father they originally thought he was and have that realization match with dean's own arc is so interesting

[sage-writes-n-coins-mogai]

Me: *Grows up being hit regularly as a kid* *Goes through years of mental abuse and has my mental health and suicidal ideation ignored during my adolescence* *The Parentals failing me when it comes to tending to my emotional and interpersonal development* *Gets groomed during my later teens* *The horror that was me coming out to my parents as nonbinary on Christmas 2021 because I thought they would make an exception when it came to their retrospectively obvious transphobia* *All of this accumulating in me completely losing all trust and emotional attachment I had for She Who Raised Me and her boyfriend and thus leading to pretending I’m a changeling that replaced their real human child to cope with said the loss of connection*

Also me: Wearing diapers, collecting monster high dolls and playing Papa Louie games should fix everything!

[mother-of-houseplants-2]

while i'm on my fiona-as-monica-stand-in bullshit:

monica being like "i get it. i know what it's like. i was once where you are right now." IS INSANE TO ME???? MA'AM THAT'S YOUR DAUGHTER???? HELLO??? and then -

fiona's sad little smile as monica says "you have no idea how bad it is" BECAUSE SHE DOES KNOW. SHE KNOWS IT ALL TOO WELL. BUT THEN????

the fact that it's LIP who says "try me" ???? I'M GOING INSANE. FIONA AND LIP AS MONICA AND FRANK PARALLELS/STAND-INS IS KILLING ME. AND IT DOESN'T END THERE????

fiona going "i know how he treated you" because he treats her the same way im !!!!!!!! and THEN!!!!

the fact that she ACKNOWLEDGES that she was forced into this role by his negligence/abuse AND HER ABANDONMENT, the fact that she outright says "i'm not his wife. YOU ARE," the fact that she TELLS MONICA "YOUR LEAVING MADE ME HAVE TO STEP INTO YOUR SHOES. YOU LEFT YOUR CHILDREN AND MADE ME THEIR MOTHER. YOU LEFT YOUR HUSBAND AND MADE ME HIS WIFE."

i'm on the ground.

[kcyars99]

it goes without saying that child molestaton is nothing to make fun of nor you should out the victim of sexual abuse because it’s the victims story to tell

ALT

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Drake has zero problems harassing and targeting the wives and fiancé of his rivals (pusha t and Kendrick Lamar) and targeting women who once were associated with him but want nothing to do with him (Rihanna, Serena, Megan) but had to be shamed into being a father to his own son

and while he’s sitting here talking about how Kendrick being a "woman beater” and his son not being his but Dave free he’s out there being friends with that leprechaun who shot at Megan four years ago advocating for his freedom which is never gonna happen , possibly hiding an 11 year old daughter , text messaging teenage girls like a lovesick boyfriend even though he’s old enough to be their father and him being loud and wrongo about his rivals rough childhood(see the critical and commercial flop The Heart Part 6 in which f Drake claims that Lamar fixates on the topic of pedophila because of his own supposed molestation as a child, labeling this "trauma from [Lamar's] own confessions". Drake traces this to Lamar's song "Mother I Sober" off of his 2022 album Mr. Morale & The Big Steppers, referring to the song as "that one record where you say you got molested". However, the referenced song is actually about generational trauma and Lamar's mother not believing him when he truthfully told her he had not been molested.)

so it’s a problem for Kendrick to have a successful hit making record breaking potential song of the summer and song of the year, which is a complete annihilation of Drake but it’s okay for Drake to make light of molestation, messing with his male rivals family members and children’s, being inappropriate with teenage girls and hide children and not take care of them and make light of the trauma of black folks more specifically black women traumatic experiences and hangs out with these women’s abusers and it’s all friends with them? Are you kidding me? Don’t make me laugh.

I don’t care if there’s a gummy bear, teddy bears, the bearstein bears, Chicago Bears, Chicago Cubs, Yogi Bear, polar bear, black bear, grizzly bears, mama bear , Jeremy Allen White from the TV series the bear, little bear from the children series little bear, Paddington Bear, corduroy bear, Winnie the Pooh, Bear Grylls, heck, even smoky the bear I’m choosing those bears over Drake every time because they are not a sassy immature biiich like him

[ev1lmorty]

the multiple episodes where rick explicitly is disgusted by child predators to the point someone trying to sexually assault morty immediately makes him actually comfort morty n also crazy murder the assaulter

[bakersimmer]

When it came to romance, Hanna found herself drawn to individuals mirroring the chaos she had grown up with. Over the past few years, therapy and introspection became essential tools, aiding her in breaking the cycle she was entangled in.

Reflecting on her past, she recognized that her attraction to self-centered and abusive men was deeply rooted in her childhood. The absence of her father, and her mother prioritizing her relationships over caring for Hanna, had created a belief that she was unwanted and unlovable. The pursuit for validation and affection became a recurring theme in her later life, with each relationship unfolding in a familiar pattern – lies, hurt, apologies, promises of change, and declarations of love and need followed by a brief period of bliss. But with each breakup, Hanna's self-esteem took another hit. The unfulfilled promises became a twisted affirmation, reinforcing the belief that she was the source of the problem.

Scrolling through her phone's gallery, Hanna thought about the two years that had passed since her divorce. As she compared the older and more recent pictures, she saw the journey from a fragile, thin, and pale woman to one with bright eyes and a confident smile. But despite the visible transformation, deep-seated doubts about her worth lingered within. On some days, these doubts sought to assert themselves. Nevertheless, she faced this internal struggle with unwavering bravery.

Hanna's gaze settled on a recently taken picture, and she knew instantly – this was the one. With that, her carefully crafted profile was complete.

[Hanna, 30 Brindleton Bay Photographer by day, hopeless romantic by night]

previous / beginning / next

[alleiwentcrazy]

“Hey, Steve—”

He stops, placing his feet carefully, all too aware of the added weight strapped to his back. The ax makes him sway slightly—or maybe it’s not the ax, he thinks, turning back. Maybe it’s the weight of Eddie’s gaze crossing with his, maybe it’s the promise of something awful looming over them. Maybe it’s the stench of fear and decay, so prominent here in the world of creatures that want nothing but to destroy.

The moment feels heavy, giving them all another reason to hesitate. They look at each other for a long second, Steve’s gaze curious, Eddie’s skittish and unsure. To see Eddie Munson unsure is so rare even Dustin looks surprised. Steve feels exposed, more exposed than when he was half-naked and everyone could practically see the inside of his body. He desperately needs Robin to reassure him that he’s still there because one more look into Eddie’s eyes and he’ll lose it.

The silence between them seems to stretch into eternity, Eddie’s gaze drops, then he looks back up, and suddenly—

Suddenly Steve’s six again, roaming around the new house his parents bought not too long ago. The house is weird, Steve doesn’t like it. It’s bigger than the other one, looks fancier and Steve has already been instructed not to touch anything and to play only in his own room should he find it necessary. Entering his father’s study is strictly forbidden, so naturally, his mind is set on trying to get inside that room somehow, even if it means getting in trouble. But he has to find it first.

He passes yet another guest room when he catches something with the corner of his eye. His tiny feet carry him to the window, and then immediately outside into his brand new backyard, where in the furthest corner he finds a big, spectacularly green tree with—yes! A treehouse!

He’s so excited, finally having something just for himself in this big, empty house, where he’s not allowed to do anything but breathe and study. He’s up the ladder in no time, using as much force as he has to lift the flap and hoist himself inside.

He looks around and jumps in excitement. It’s perfect. It’s like—like magic, like he has teleported himself into another child’s room. There are stacks of colorful books in the corner, a patched-up blanket on the floor, some toys, some board games, even. Is this place real? He can’t wait to tell his mother how grateful he is for that, he’ll have to give special thanks to his father, too, because his father always says that everything he has is due to their goodwill—

Steve’s startled when he hears the ladder moving again, then he takes a step back when the flap goes flying open and a head full of dark, curly hair appears just next to his feet.

They stare each other down, the intruder’s dark eyes wide in shock, Steve’s in fear mixed with surprise. It’s a boy, probably around his age, but how did he get here?

“Are you… real?” Steve asks, not knowing what else to do.

The boy furrows his brows. “Obviously?”

They stare at each other for a second longer, then something flashes on the boy’s face and he nods to himself like he’s made up his mind. Then he clambers inside and stands in front of Steve. He’s a little bigger, dressed in clean but shabby clothes. His gaze is scrutinizing.

“Why are you here?” he asks, his tone accusatory. Steve wants to take another step back, but his feet are locked in place.

“We’ve moved in today.”

“Oh,” the boy’s face deflates, but his arms are still crossed protectively over his chest. “For good?”

“Uh. Yes?” Steve feels out of his depth. His parents told him that he shouldn’t talk to strangers, but… “Why are you here?”

“There’s a hole in the fence,” the boy shrugs, almost nonchalantly. “It’s my hang-out spot.”

Steve isn’t sure what a hang-out spot is, exactly, but he still nods. Neither of them speaks for a moment, then the boy’s arms drop to his sides and he reaches for the blanket.

“Alright, I’ll get my stuff and—”

“No!” Steve yells, clutching the other end of the blanket and trying to yank it from the boy’s hands. “I mean… We can play together here. These things are cool,” he says, his face getting hot. He’s telling the truth, the things in the treehouse are cool, but also—Steve isn’t allowed to play with other children, not the ones he’d like to play with, anyway. Only the ones his parents choose. This boy is none of those.

He takes a look around, clearly thinking about his options. Then his eyes land on Steve. He looks and he looks, and Steve feels a little like when the teachers his father hires to train him in things he doesn’t really understand ask him questions to which he has no answers.

This time, the outcome of the evaluation, as they like to call it, is positive. The boy drops the blanket.

“And you won’t tell your parents I’ve been here? Ever? You can’t tell.”

“I won’t,” Steve says earnestly, shaking his head. He won’t tell. He really won’t.

The boy looks at him for a while longer and then, seemingly out of nowhere, he smiles. His smile is wide and welcoming, so wide Steve can see the missing tooth in the back of his mouth. “Okay,” he says, simply. He’s so eager to play he immediately starts gathering toys and books. When he reaches for something lying on a high shelf, his tee rides up.

There’s a big, angry bruise on his back.

Steve wants to ask about it, but his parents told him not to pry—

“What’s your name?” he asks instead. The boy whips his head around and furrows his brows at Steve again.

“You sure you won’t tell your parents?” Steve nods. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he replies without hesitation.

“I’m Eddie,” the boy replies, sitting down on the floor and urging Steve to sit down next to him. He complies.

“I’m Steve,” he introduces himself, sitting down somewhat gingerly. The boy grins again and Steve can’t hold back his own smile any longer.

“Nice to meet you, Steve. How much do you know about elves?”

In no time, they become secret best friends. They hang out almost every day throughout the summer, and Steve learns so much about magic and fantastical worlds and creatures he can’t think of anything else. Sometimes they just sit down and draw, sometimes Eddie reads his books out loud, forcing Steve to see how cool they are—Steve’s not too good at reading himself, but he enjoys Eddie’s stories.

Eddie has a knack for making things up. One day, when Steve hoists himself inside in the worst of moods, having heard that he really is and probably will forever be no use in business from his father, Eddie just starts telling him a story Steve’s sure he’s never heard before. Then, next time, Eddie is in the worst of moods, fresh circular marks burned onto his arms, so Steve takes his poster paints and decorates the skin around them to make them prettier—which, sure, not the smartest idea, but it works, Eddie’s laughing, all okay.

When school starts, they keep it a secret. They pretend that they don’t know each other in the corridors, giggling between themselves when no one is around. They still meet up afterward, even in winter—then summer comes and everything’s great again. Steve has a best friend, and they play together and they share secrets together, and his parents can’t do anything about it, because they don’t know.

Steve has a best friend. Until said best friend disappears suddenly during the school year. Without a word. Steve has heard something about his parents, his father, but he’s not allowed to ask questions—he promised not to tell, didn’t he?

He doesn’t ask, but he still hopes. Every day, he climbs up that ladder and waits, waits so long, until the memory of Eddie’s voice gets blurred and distorted, and his smell no longer lingers on the things he left in their treehouse.

Steve gets to see him again when he’s in middle school, freshly moved to Hawkins, not expecting to meet anyone he knows here in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. He’s so surprised on the first day of school—their new house has no treehouse in the backyard, but Eddie is here. It must be Eddie. His hair is buzzed and he looks like he’s had enough of life, but it’s him.

Only, he doesn’t seem to care that it’s Steve. Maybe he doesn’t recognize him? But he does. When their paths cross in the corridor, he stops so suddenly, his eyes go big, just like they did in that treehouse for the first time. He’s just about to smile when Tommy, Steve’s new classmate, appears around the corner, calling out for him, and Eddie’s face turns to steel. Steve remembers his accusatory glare. It’s there.

Eddie turns heel and runs. Steve tries to talk to him again, but it doesn’t work. Tommy hangs around him like a vulture, scaring Eddie away—and besides, is it really Steve’s job to talk to him? He’s not the only one that’s confused, hurt, even.

Oh, it hurts like hell. It was never supposed to happen.

Steve spends a few nights crying over that. Then comes high school, people start calling him King Steve and Eddie looks at him with such disgust it makes Steve want to take a shower whenever their eyes lock in class. Steve’s senior year is torture because he shares it with Eddie, who clearly hates him so much he’d spit on him if he had a chance. Even after Steve’s fall from grace, Eddie doesn’t stop looking at him with anger burning in his eyes.

And he’s almost always looking, while Steve misses him like crazy.

Eddie kinda makes him think that he’s completely unlikeable. That he’s broken and can’t be fixed, can’t befriend anyone—until Robin.

Oh, Robin. Amazing, caring, beautiful, smart, snarky Robin. The relationship he builds with her quickly becomes the most important one in his life. She’s as much a part of him as his hand or heart is. Steve’s not a poet, but he’s sure, really sure that she’s the one thing he didn’t know that was missing in his life—like a part of his soul was wandering somewhere around the universe, lost and unable to come back without help.

What he has with Robin is unique, complete and incomparable. No one understands him the way she does, no one loves him the way she does. Among others, these are the things that make their friendship so unlike any other relationship Steve’s had. Robin isn’t just his friend. Robin is something entirely different, something Steve can’t, for the life of him, put into words.

On rare occasions, though, thinking about her does bring up memories of Eddie. Was it similar with him? No, it wasn’t. But then what was it, exactly?

Steve’s quite successful in pushing those moments away. He is, even when the kids join Eddie’s little nerd club. He is, even when the manhunt starts.

It’s the piece of shattered bottle pressed to his neck that makes him lose it. It’s Eddie’s misery, fear, and the real, tangible danger he’s in. The words he says to Steve along the way (you'd have let me die if Nancy hadn't jumped?). It’s the fact that they still don’t talk, not about things that matter, even though they suddenly have to coexist in a world that wants them destroyed and they have to do everything in their power to stop it. Together.

It’s the fact that Eddie may not make it. Even if they get out of the Vecna situation, will they be able to save Eddie from the people that see him as some kind of evil sent by the heavens to decimate them?

Steve’s worried, so worried. He’s worried about the kids—hell, Max is his top priority. But at the same time, other thoughts float in the back of his mind and he can’t seem to shake them off.

He can’t keep them all safe. Someone has to risk everything, they just don’t know who, exactly. For that, Steve hopes it won’t have to be Eddie. Leaving things unsaid… It will kill him too, eventually.

Steve hopes it won’t have to be Eddie. He hopes. He hopes and hopes, and—

Eddie’s gaze is on him again. Not skittish. Still scared, still unsure, but set, at the same time.

“Make him pay,” he says, a sense of finality overpowering his words.

Steve can’t believe it. He wants to scream, he wants to shake Eddie’s shoulders until he sees some sense. That’s not what you wanted to say! That’s not how it ends! That’s not how we part before possible disaster!

And he’s angry, he’s sad, it hurts like hell, because—what if Eddie doesn't care about him at all? Has he ever cared? Is he supposed to care for both of them? What’s he supposed to do now? Go up there, slap him, yell at him, hold him?

Steve doesn’t know where that last thought comes from. It’s certainly not something he should do at any point.

The eyes of Nancy, Dustin and Robin drill holes into his skull. He’s waiting for too long, hoping that maybe it’ll resolve itself.

Only it won’t. Eddie won’t say anything else. Steve won’t run up there and hold him. Instead, he nods. Eddie nods back, sealing the deal. Steve holds his gaze a little longer – their last chance.

It goes unnoticed. His team sets out and for the sake of them both, Steve is going to hold on to the hope of seeing another day.

[honeyjars-sims]

2.28 Stay With Me

Lexie: What happened?

Chantal: We were at my mom’s house and Jimmy just walked in. He tried to talk to Johnny but Destiny and I weren’t about to let that happen.

Cece: That son of a bitch!

Lexie: Oh my God. Is he ok?

Chantal: Mostly. He’s been sleeping, but he asked for you a couple of times.

[Lexie gets into Johnny's bed and gently shakes him awake]

Lexie: Johnny?

Johnny: Lexie! You’re here!

Lexie: What do you need?

Johnny: Please just hold me.

[Lexie wraps her arms around him]

Johnny: I just thought I was doing better and then I saw him, and I just…

Lexie: It’s ok to feel afraid after what you’ve been through. It doesn’t mean you haven’t made any progress.

Johnny: I guess. Standing there I felt just the same as I did when I was a kid. I felt so small and vulnerable. I wish I would’ve hit him or yelled at him or something. Anything other than running away like a coward.

Lexie: Hitting him wouldn’t have made you feel better, even if he deserves it. And you’re not a coward. He is. Otherwise he wouldn’t have targeted a little boy who couldn’t fight back.

Johnny: Well, I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m a man. Or at least I’m supposed to be.

Lexie: You’re more of a man than he’ll ever be. You have the biggest heart, Johnny. You do so much to make other people feel loved. You’re so understanding and empathetic…he’ll never know how it feels to love like you do. 

Johnny: I guess. Lexie?

Lexie: Yeah?

Johnny: Please just stay with me, ok? Don’t leave me.

Lexie: I won’t. I’ll stay right here.

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[loveyourlovelysoul]

The more you and your results are not acknowledged when you are little, the more you feel useless and put aside, unworthy and unlovable. The more you get yelled at even for just trying to be fun, the more you have to deal with anger and control. Basically the more you are caged and controlled in your early life, and not acknowledged as a human being, the less easy becomes to free yourself, to see that you can free yourself, that you have the power to get out of that cage and live the way you want to, and that it is gonna be safe. Maybe a bit uncomfortable at the beginning, but it is safe even if you now feel like your actual position is the one you belong to, the one you need to stay in, the one you cannot get out of, the one you deserve because your caregivers made you think so, the one you even started to feel safe in by habit, but that you know is not your place. Build yourself your own type of safe place and never make it a closed cage, be free.