I think, once upon a time in my life, I was set on a path to be a pretty all right person. Lively, creative, spontaneous, trusting...

Sure, I'd still have had bipolar disorder, and seasonal affective disorder, but I don't think I was predestined to the other shit. The anxiety disorder, the trust issues, the self-esteem problems.

But you came along.

For years, I broke my back showing you I loved you, while you presented me a false face. Behind my back, you told everyone how much you wanted me to die.

Sometimes, you'd let your true face show and tell me how much you wanted me to die; how I was "faking my problems" for "attention."

The fucked-up thing is that to this day, I don't feel I'm allowed my own emotions because you had me so CONVINCED that everything that wasn't pure happiness was me "acting out."

You manipulated me so much that, you know what? I think so, too. Maybe my depression IS self-imposed. Maybe I could just "get over it." I just don't know anymore.

But I do know that you took sick pleasure by completely annihilated everything I could have been. You saw the power you had over me, you saw the depth of my feelings, and you made it game to see just how far you could bend me and have me still crawling back.

You reveled in your ability to tear me down - down so far that I was contemplating, planning my suicide. I'm CERTAIN you sadistically laughed when I'd come back to you to fix what YOU'D done.

But even after all of that, I think I could have been okay, but then he came. And I thought he was going to save me.

At first, maybe he did. But years passed and he reinforced everything you'd said; done to me. He demonstrated that, without a doubt, blind faith in another is the WORST choice I could make.

He demonstrated, more aptly than anyone else, that I was not enough. I wasn't skinny enough, pretty enough, interesting enough, smart enough. I wasn't ENOUGH of anything.

So he shoved me into his rules, his game, and I knew that I was a bed-warmer, a play-thing. I was an emotional-punching bag. He taught me how to shut down my emotions and live in the moment.

My feelings were not tolerated. Anxieties a nuisance to be ignored or trivialized. Fears mocked. Tears, cause for punishment. And oh, were his punishments cruel. No contact, telling me about the other women, fucking my friends.

Somewhere along the way, I broke.

I didn't realize I had, but somewhere along the way, I did.

The little girl that I'd once been was long gone. The woman I could've become if I'd had a bit of unconditional love, well, she was doomed from the start, wasn't she? Never stood a chance.

Every day, every SINGLE day, I fight with myself. I preach about self-love and body positivity and blah, blah, BLAH. I scream about these things so loudly because I'm still clawing at the notion; trying so hard to gain back some sort of self-respect.

I haven't.

On days like today, I'm positive that I never will.

On days like today, I'm convinced that I am broken beyond repair.