But none of that changes my determination. I need to be strong for myself. Because I will never forget that feeling of being held against a wall while I was mutilated. I will never forget that feeling of utter helplessness. Perhaps things are born from trauma. An anger. A clarity. A beast. It scares me. Terrifies the hell out of me—of what I did that night. Because I don’t know my own power. But that’s been the problem all along, hasn’t it? Maybe none of us truly know our own strength. Not until the world has hacked away at us. But the point is, we aren’t strong because of our trauma. We were
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