I keep punishing myself. For not knowing stuff, for forgetting stuff, for not remembering stuff, for not being able to speak, for not being able to live my life, for my wounds, for my scars, for the pain I feel, for being in this place, for losing everything, for letting them hurt me, for not fighting hard enough, for not screaming loud enough, for who I've become, for letting him come so close, for my wall, for being 29 and dead inside, for being 29 and not having a life, for sitting here and writing this, for sharing my stories, for sharing all this, for being emotionally screwed up, for feeling like this, for not being able to stop feeling like this, for not being able to be myself again. I punish myself.
Too much to see. Too much to hear. Too much noise. Too many thoughts. I see things. Scary things. Things that haunt me day and night. They won't leave me alone. They keep hurting me. They say stuff. They do stuff. My demons.
My new life.
This is all there is.