When I was younger than I am today, I believed that love was meant to be consuming. 

I thought that love meant sacrifice. 

Sacrificing who you are, what you believe in, your ideals and the things you hold true. 

When I was little, I thought love meant holding your tongue for fear of the consequences. 

I thought love was being afraid to say anything. 

I thought love was bruises and scars and someone creating those bruises and opening those scars. 

When I was in the 5th grade, I thought love meant no matter what, you would always pick the person you love...over everything. 

Even over those who depended on you to be the adult. 

I believed love was laying over and taking it.

I thought love was forgiving and forgetting everything, even before you were healed. 

Screaming matches at 3 a.m., "I fell, that's all," "this is the last time, I swear," that's what I thought love was.  

I kept a book under my pillow so I could pass the time; I never could sleep. 

We both knew the bruises weren't from a fall. 

How many times did you tell me that it was the last time?

Love was what made you stay.  

Love made my home a nightmare.

Love made you a stranger.

And I'll never be able to love anyone else for fear of losing myself as you did. 

Because love is sacrifice. 

But the cost was my childhood; I won't let it be my future self, too.