I’m sick and tired of the violence that conspired through the time when I was
young. Just a little girl, may have been not too bright, nevertheless still not dumb.
Looking back on the times, when the pain escalated and I didn’t say a word, my
window of opportunity pass by, slip through my fingers as grains of sand. Time
has expired and yet I still have not said a word. Have not opened my mouth to
speak a sound, a whisper, a tone. Instead kept quiet as if I had never even
learned. Whether it was because of fear if words were spoken or anxiety of the
expected outcome. What was the real reason in which I acted as a mute. Too
young to say too much, nevertheless had ample reason to state a dispute.
Avoiding argument, debate, or even more so... more abuse. Regardless of my
age at the time, or even now as an adult, that fear is still deep rooted inside of
me, part of my past unfortunately part of my future as well. I carry it around as a
pain in my heart a little part of my heart that has been strangled and damaged as
a disease with no cure. My only hope is that I don’t go in to relapse to that life of
torment and pain, where it takes over my life and body and leaves me disabled,
limp, breathless without strength or pride. Before I am to ever get to that state, I
just pray for the ability to speak, to say a word, to raise my voice loud and let out a
cry. Never again will I allow for it to be Too Late.