Das Ende.

That 7th day in July, when you yanked me out of the shower, dragged me upstairs and did all those horrible things that I don't even want to remember?   In that moment, whatever feelings I thought I had for you, whatever love, hatred, longing, and hope, I had for you, they all disappeared the moment you bashed my head with the shower handle.  Whatever beautiful memories I had of you for over a decade that I have known you, they all disappeared that moment you pried my fingers from the railing and dragged me by my hair all the way to your bed.  That moment that you made me bleed, that you hurt me in more horrific ways that I could ever imagine possible, you and I ended.

I will never fully understand why I had to meet you, why you did what you did despite knowing fully that I was in love with you, that I would have given you what you so cruelly took.

I have never believed in the concept of heaven and hell.  But if there is indeed hell, you are every bit the epitome of it.

That 7th day in July, in my heart, I knew that your sick hold in my life ended.  I feel nothing for you.  I have nothing for you.  This is where you end, asshole.  

I'm so tired... One day I'm at the beach, soaking up the sun, the next day I'm at the hospital bed again. Sometimes I wish that I will not survive the next row.  But this badly mangled heart of mine keeps breathing.  It keeps on hanging on, willing itself to beat even if odds seem against it.

I almost forgot how good it feels to just sit here in the sand, stare at the lapping waves, and listen to kids laughing and horsing around in the water.  

I can't explain how light my heart feels today.  This moment of calm and happiness is fleeting, but surreal.