TW

I remember when I realized he raped me

And the joke wasn't funny anymore

I remember standing in the front lawn

When he called me a whore

I remember throwing up after the baby

Until my entire soul was sore

I remember thinking I had found hope

Then being punished for wanting more

And yet

When you want me to forget

How I deserve to be treated

Or what I desperately needed

All you have to do is yank away

Anything I try to say

Crumple it

Spit on it

Twist it up until I've lost the thread

Leave me on read

Fuck you

You made me promise not to say

Fuck you

But I have given up on being known

I have given up on being heard

So if all that is left of me

Is a muted TV

The caption will still read

FUCK YOU

Silence

 Silence when I wake up

He's working

 Silence when I bring home food

His stomach hurts

 Silence when I rush to work

He's tired

 Silence when I rush home for lunches

He's napping

 Silence when I leave again

I've left so many of the chores for him

 Silence when I am at work

He's napping again

 Silence when I come home

He needs a break

 Silence when they eat dinner

He needs a break

 Silence when they go to bed

He needs a break

 Silence when they've been asleep

He needs a break

I am alone, pumping my arms through the ocean, day and night. A novel for a brain, narrated to the inside of my skull. A secret logbook that verifies to only me all the challenges, victories, guilts, fears, enthusiasm, ideas, goals, and interests.

One day, if I drown, will my mind be squished down into a bottle, corked, and washed up on a shore somewhere I never had the time or money to go?

Will the person who reads it, years, generations, ages from now, be the person I have been hoping for, the person who will see me, accept me, love who I was, so many years, generations, ages before?

Or will I float into the great pacific garbage patch and contribute my hopes and passions to the toxicity of the ocean.