When I was a kid and you were never around I figured it was okay because I never knew any better, but that wasn't love was it? And the times where I accidentally called my aunts mom instead of you I never thought twice about it, but that wasn't love was it? Or even the times when we would get in trouble while you were at work and the first thing you did when you got home was hit us, and not just any hit but with our pants down and the belt wet, making sure it would sting and leave a mark so we wouldn't forget. That wasn't love was it? The time that I was eight and we lived in that small, old apartment that lacked air conditioning in one of the hottest summers I've yet to experience and your ex-girlfriend locking us in the room, only allowing us to use the bathroom and drink water and we told you every day when you came home and no matter what you believed her, that wasn't love was it? Should I bring up the time that that same woman poured a half empty can of soda on my head because I was nine and afraid and to this day you claim it never happened. That wasn't love was it? When I was 12 and had to tell you that I was self-harming, that I seemed to feel differently than all the other kids but I didn't know why, you stopped talking to me altogether. That wasn't love was it? When I was 14 and my grades started slipping because I couldn't balance the pressure of home life and school life all you said was that I was lazy and at that rate not going to amount to anything, that wasn't love was it? There was the time that I was 16 and on coming out day I wore a pansexual sticker, I thought I was filled with pride and you took it, ripped it, looked up the definition and laughed in my face. You told me that I "just always want to be something". That wasn't love, was it? How about the time that I was 17 and told you that I was depressed, that I had been suicidal since I was 13 and nothing about that was normal? You told me I had no real problems and that I'm not the only person who's ever thought of killing themselves. That wasn't love was it? I was 18 and you accused me of ruining your relationship, you said the way that I act is disgusting and you told me all I do is cause problems. That wasn't love, was it? When I spent the majority of my teenage years battling internally, begging to be normal because how could I love a mother who constantly ignored me and called me a problem but how could I hate a mother that always managed to make sure I had the bare necessities I required and sometimes a little more, that wasn't love, was it? And when he holds me tight and tells me that everything will be okay, that I need to hold on a little longer, that's love isn't it? When he calls me to ensure that I'm okay, does whatever he can to help and promises me he'll be with me through it all, that's love isn't it? And one day when I'm far, far away from here, when I no longer know this house as home and have a couple kids of my own I vow to keep them far, far away from you and shelter them from your constant abuse. That'll be love, won't it?