The older she got, the more she thought things might change, that the past might be left not forever sitting in her pocket.
But it didn’t work like that, the past stuck to her like glue and wasn’t showing any sign of being anything other than that.
Her past life crippled her and she knew it. Try as she might to lessen its impact she came to the realization that the past for her was part of her living.
She spent ten years writing her story, putting down the painful moments that were not too painful to mention but acknowledging there some events she would never be able to record.
Who would have thought the abuse of childhood would have dictated so much of her life? The constant craving as she grew older for affection and acceptance resulted in greater and more horrifying abuse from which she would never recover.
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