| You still speak of day old hate |
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I finally got a decent amount of sleep last night. I feel great.
I'm trying not to think about my stepdad and brother, but it's been really hard. I hate that I'm consumed by the thought of what will happen to him without a father. Having been there, I know how hard it can be. He's so little, and he cries for him in his sleep. Almost immediately afterwards he will curl into me and latch on for dear life. One night, he asked me not to leave him. He's my entire world, and it breaks my heart for him to hurt. Especially when I feel like I could have stopped it, or at least made it less traumatic.
Everyone tells me not to blame myself, that he is the adult and I am not, that anyone would have broken just as I did had it been them living as I had lived for six years. But the bottom line is that I lost my self-control, I gave in, I let him win, and I hurt the people around me by doing so. For that I'll never forgive myself and it doesn't matter how many times people tell me that I can't, shouldn't blame myself. I do. I will until the day the hurt dissipates.
I can't even enjoy the peace in the home because I am so preoccupied by noose-like necklace of guilt. My love has stayed by me through all of this, held me when I cried, and I love him for that... There have been days where I've felt my sanity was running away with my ability to reason, they are going to elope in a land unknown, and place their powers in the minds of someone else. But then there are the days where I feel so grounded, so thankful to be living in a house that no longer seems dark with tension.
I'm torn, I'm broken, yet so completely whole. It doesn't make sense.
In the end, I won, yet I cannot enjoy the victory.
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