Haunting Lavenders

I knew how to act as I didn't have a choice over my actions. I was only a toy. Sometimes I felt that I might have liked it because I always ran back to my abusers. This was the only way I knew, I wasn't able to function by myself. This always disturbs my mind. It drives me crazy. My true feelings were drifting away from me, through my self-inflicted cuts. So how should I know what I was feeling, truly, deeply?

Everything is strange, even when I'm happy, I feel guilty. No one feels sorry for me. Not that they should anymore. A different kind of monster is chasing me: the urge to forget. But if I forget who I was, how should I know who I should be? The worst thing is that it doesn't even matter. I'm slowly transforming into nothingness. Like I was nothing all along.

I was fighting so hard for my freedom only to realise that I did deserve the way I was treated because at least I was useful as a punching bag.