fifty-two: longing

ugh.

i don’t think i can do this one justice today, it’s been a completely shitty day.

what i long for most is for this not to have happened. the possibility that somehow, i wasn’t a little girl to whom these things occurred. that i wasn’t really a receptacle for the lust and sickness of two grown men, that i was safe, that i was protected, that i counted.

secondly, i long for a lap, into which i can keen and sob and wail because it did fucking happen, all of it. so many disgusting things, to my small body, so many disgusting words, into my young ears.

and lastly, i long for the day when i don’t long for that lap, when my motherlessness doesn’t feel like a stone in my gut, when i stop needing so desperately and often. when i can hold her and me both, and know that we’ll make it through.

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