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The War is Ours to Have!

Tonight, I have mixed emotions, about myself and the life that has gotten me here.

I feel like I was robbed, robbed of the childhood that I deserved—the childhood that I almost had. I didn’t have two happy parents; I am the product of a broken home. I do not place my blame on either unit, more so to all those involved. The signs were there, the cries for help, yet everyone turned a blind eye until it was all too late, the damage was done, I no longer wanted to be saved.

I have spent an entire decade trying to go back and save the little girl that was left all alone to fend for herself because no one wanted to hear her cries. No amount of effort can change her hurt, the only parts of her that are left will be with me forever; I will always hear her cries.

That little girl just wanted to be happy, nothing more, that was all; but unfortunately, that was too much to ask. Life dealt her cards that many would have folded but she, she stayed and fought.

She played with the hand that she dealt, and she came out the other side. I picture that girl, so full of life, so innocent and sweet, yet so much had already been taken from her that her memory is bittersweet. I remember her laugh, her smile, the gleeful happiness that she had; yet not long after those sweet years her smile would be forever changed.

I’m here today because of her, because she knew that there had to be more, misery couldn’t be her story; after all, she wanted to be happy and damnit she would hang on until she was. Drugs and depression almost killed me, but she wouldn’t let me quit. That little girl that wanted more out of life was the voice that kept me here; when every fiber of my being was telling me to just give in, “it’s so easy don’t you see?”

She screamed and yelled and through a fit, she wouldn’t let me go. That part me that held on tight when I wanted to let go; I see her in my children—in myself sometimes too. She never gave up hope, that WE could be happy and even though she didn’t get the life that she should have had, she made sure that I stuck around give my children the life that was taken from her—the life that they deserve.

Through every pill, drink, depressive episode and drug, she held on tight and saved my life and that little girl—that little girl, she is finally happy; and now I’m not so sad, because I know we’ve won the battle and this war is ours to have.  

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