Fight or Flight?

Ever since I was a child, things felt different. There was love but it did not feel present. There were cheers but it wasn't loud enough. It was an echo. Meant to hear only a few times once the sound waves hit the surface of my eardrums. An echo I miss. An echo I had been longing for. However, there were other 'echoes'. There were loud sounds. Not meant for cheering but as alarm to fight or flight. To run or to hide. To stay or to be present at the moment I never wanted to be at the first place. A lifetime decision. So? Did I fight or flight?

Unfortunately, the universe has its ways. I had to fight as I was too young, too naive, too soft and tired. Tired? At a young age? Weird. I had nowhere to go. The world, my mind, was a foreign land where only ponies, cartoon characters and fantasies of a perfect life existed. Oh- wait. I'm sorry. My bad. I wished it did. I wished that that was what my mind was, but I was wrong. I guilt tripped myself into having the perfect childhood as who am I wallow to when someone has endured ten times the pain I bear. Who am I to claim the misery? My mind was dark. Blank. Black. The echoes were there. Present. Constantly reminding myself to fight or flight. It was gore. Everything was. Blood was everywhere. The walls, the floor, the table, the lamp and my arms. What went wrong? I looked up. An angry man stood in front of me. He was livid, furious, and worse? He was violent. I cannot remember where the blood came from. I had no idea of the source. But only one thing rang in my mind. Should I fight?

And again. I fought. I stayed for the next thirteen years. I was trapped beneath the stormy gaze of a man whose roof echoed with his fury. His eyes were red-rimmed most of the time. His temper was short as a candle in the wind. I was a small puppet. A girl who was caged up in his wrath. I dwelled in silence, swallowed my pride, my confidence and moved when the strings attached to my arms and legs were controlled by that monster. That monster which I escaped after thirteen years of torment.

I had enough. Once it was my seventeenth birthday, I stood up for myself. Nobody was going to pull me out from the pain, the misery I once thought I had no claim of when I was just a child. I spoke about the injustice, I fought, I cried and then- I repeated every single step. Again. And again. Until exhaustion hollowed me out. Until I actually found a reason to not wake up the next morning. But I had dreams. To this day, I still carry countless dreams. The happy times in the future that I want to freeze in my camera, the memories, and the laughter. I do have a claim to the misery.

It all came to an end. When you know, you know. And when you don't? You don't. The very next morning, when I woke up, a new day, a new life and a new reason. That's when I know, I fought. I fought for all those new reasons, and I will keep fighting if it means something.

-I hope my inner child is in peace.