Two words with the weight of the world.
I say them to myself.
I say it to my sister.
Her face turns pale as the salty tears roll down my face.
As her eyes turn glossy, but she holds it in as if she could read my mind.
I don’t need pity. I just need you to know.
As the zipper on my chest that has been holding it all in begins to crack open.
As I cry for help to a group of women.
I’ve never met them, but they know me.
They see me, they feel with me.
And they repeat it, them too.
I tell my mom.
She blames herself. A mother’s worst nightmare. A sense of failure.
I calm her down. Somethings are out of your control mother.
But yes, me too.
She cries “hay hija… eso pasa entre jovenes…”
I see you mom.
My marriage is hanging by a thread
All because me too!
Hypersexuality, once unexplainable. Now, Understandable.
I tell my husband.
His eyes bloodshot.
Leave me if you want. Accept and love and stay.
Leave me if you want. I will be ok.
The zipper on my chest is now fully open.
ME TOO! I yell it.
Leave me or stay.
I will not be a victim.
I am a survivor.
I am a fighter.
I will be ok.
It fucked me over for years.
It will change my life to say it but