So, i've been thinking a lot about what a pissed off, drunk, defeated little girl i was. And, the image of that little girl still pisses me off. i'm not sure if i'm angry with the people who made her that way, or the little girl herself for not putting her foot down sooner. i know this is stupid. i'm lucky to have escaped with my life as it is. But image after image of defeat, dispair, degradation and desperate attempts at survival have overwhelmed me. i'm lost. i'm rudderless. i have no idea where to go. i don't know what to process next. So today i'm going to at least tell you that screaming little girl's name. The angry yet defeated, defiant yet compliant, contradiction that i was during my early teen years. John named me Raven. That was my name at Edward's. i thought i wouldn't give that here. That it was too private. i thought it would be to hold an unbearable spotlight on that little girl's pain and shame and self hatred. i was wrong. She deserves someone to see her finally. Every person in her life who had a responsibility to look after her failed her. Miserably. Dammit, failed me. This little girl is me. And, i'm pissed off about it. Its now my responsibility to look after that little girl. And, i'm failing her too. i am ashamed of her. i try to sugar coat her and cover her naked agony. i'm going to stop that. Her name is Raven. Listen to her scream.
