to quote Sylvia Plath...
I've done it for so long, it seems there should be nothing left of me. A part of me died when I was 10, when I was molested. A part of me died when I was a teenager and my uncle tried to rape me. A part of me died when I was in the US Navy, when I was raped.
But it's more than just those physical instances. It's the dying inside, the dying in my soul. The dying that is an offshoot of every painful emotion I have felt since I was a young girl. It's the dying that still occurs, deep inside of me. And that dying is real. And that dying does feel like hell.
Can anyone relate? Does anyone fear that dying? Does anyone want to join me?