Overcome

"Go away, go away," I claw at my head," Go away!"

I can feel the discomfort on my skin because the discomfort is my skin. Knowing someone, something so vile touched my skin. With, or without my consent. 

"How did I let that happen? Why did I go back, knowing I was repulsed and uncomfortable? And, how does lust pop up out of that feeling? How did I live with myself?"

I shiver in disgust, remembering the actions. That face.

"How did I look at the same face that scared me, and let that person touch me? How was I okay with someone so shitty being intimate, touching my skin? How...fucking toxic was I?"

I hear laughter roar in my head," My dear, you think that's toxic? You slept with a man almost twenty years older than you, fell for him, cheated on that person who hurt you, lived with a shithead. And, you're still here. So...how toxic were you?"

The laughter becomes light," Look at all you've survived. You've survived emotional abuse from your parents, being pushed to being sexual for someone you cared for. You've survived seeing their face, being broken...more than others may even understand. You've survived being violated, treated like some sort of monster to wake up for entertainment. You've survived living with parents who just wanted you to be what they wanted you to be. They didn't care about what you needed or wanted. They even drilled their own beliefs into your head, belittled you. You know what most people become when they're pushed that far?"

"A murderer. A rapist. You lose control, you lose humanity. You don't care, anymore. And, fucking look at you. You have a heart, even one full of pain. It's a broken heart, and not even that damn broken. Yes, it took...what, twenty years, give or take? You have a house. You have fur children, friends, and not the fake kind. You're not 15, anymore. You're not 17. You're most certainly not 10. You're 23. Look at all the things you've overcome, and yet you don't realize it."

There's a light laugh, almost as if in relief," Most people would have died. You're a male in a female body, that's rough enough. But, to have shitty parents who won't understand, then to meet a shitty boy and think he understands. And, fuck, maybe he did. But, look at what he did. Look at that mess, that's not someone you can help or someone who can help you. Then, to meet a whiny brat who ends up abusing you, and then an almost forty-year-old man who confuses you with his actions and words? Someone who has no problem cheating or encouraging you to the same? Goddamn, that's some damn luck. What the fuck did you do?"

The laughter is playful. As much as it bothers me to hear, I can't help but laugh. I mean, what did I do? I've been fortunate with having a stable home, working parents, food, and water...but fuck, my life experiences have been...shit. I could have found a girlfriend, got a job early, and got my surgery. I could have left my house at 18 with money, but that's not how my life went. And, I can't say it's all life's fault. I could have handled it better or walked away, but I didn't. And, I have a house, animals who love me, family and friends who give a shit, and...I actually talk to my mother. So, even with everything I have been through, does that make me who I am? Does that make me evil or vengeful? I don't even think of them anymore. So, no matter how shitty my life has been, does it really make me so bad?