I admit I have scars

I often wake in the middle of night as the memories of my screams reverbrate in my head

I don't judge the women who've been through the same thing as me for removing any traces

For being cowards

It is hard enough to be plagued by nightmares

To be haunted through the most simple events

To be tortured when the intention was to be pleased

But I already had scars

And every time someone tries to tear me down

I am determined to give them the satisfaction.

I need to find my own happiness.

Even if it means meeting my demons.

"Mama?"

I turn away from the window that I was gazing at absent-mindedly. "Jason!"

"Look what I drew today!" He waves a piece of paper slapped with colors of crayon.

"That's wonderful!" I pick him up and hug him.

People may wonder why his eyes are brown while mine are blue.

My sisters with the same burden as me may wonder how I will stand that perky mouth of his that somtimes plague my mind.

Although it's a struggle,

Everything about Jason is Jason's.

He does not have the smile that gleamed over me as a piece of my soul broke away into the abyss of shame and horror,

He has the smile of a three year-old boy delighted to be in this world.

His eyes are the chocolate ones that I could gaze into because they are not filled with greed, but filled with curiosity

Many things remind of us the struggles we've been through, the horrible things that humanity creates

But it's up to us whether to continue the line of destruction or be able to move on.

I don't blame other for not having the courage or strength to have an endless battle

Between love and hate,

But I already know the feeling of being weak.

I have learned to embrace it.

And with the knowledge that I am just a person, weak and evil,

I will try my best to be strong and loving,

For my son.

Not his,

Mine.

[A/N} I decided to post this here because people who read this from my blogpost thought I was actually talking from experience.

Whoops.

:3

But almost believeable, right?