Just one more time I am asking you…What were you thinking? What is wrong with you? What did I do?
For years I wore your branding upon my body. My back. My arm. My leg. My face. Always, I had to say I had an accident. I thought it was something I did. I wasn’t good enough. Thing is…you chose me. I was an easy target for you. I wouldn’t ever say anything. Would hide like the hermit I was. You hear me? I said “was”. Continue reading “Just. One. More. Time.”