My parents believed that children should be seen, but not heard.
I was a prop.
A doll they could dress.
A robot that they could program to fill their needs.
No interest in my core being.
No space for my feelings.
No care for my heart’s desires.
Punished for asking questions.
For challenging.
For disagreeing.
They demanded dominance.
Deflected and blamed.
Destroyed and conquered.
I fought to have the right to exist.
To have space held.
To matter.
In my dating life- I have been sucked in by [faux] interest.
Captured by [performative] adoration.
Glued to [grooming] charm.
Time revealed its true nature.
A web of manipulation.
A pit of lies.
I was trapped.
Suffocated.
Consumed.
My childhood trauma on repeat.
Again.
And again.
A provider of visibility.
Of affection.
Of constant attention.
A body.
A checkbook.
A punching bag.
I know my worth.
I demand better.
I move forward.
I will be seen.
I will be heard.
I will matter.
Or I will leave.
