Conditioned

Once in awhile it hits me

It hits me harder than you used to.

Your bruised ego was all it took,

Less stroked than usual.

You feel inclined to drag me down,

Shove me down,

Or against a wall,

Whichever launches you higher for the moment...

And the next

And the one after that.

You say it ends

But it doesn’t, it never does.

It never will.

Until your ego is nice and fully inflated.

Nice fluffy and warm, so full of confidence.

Like a blanket pulled fresh from the dryer,

Warm and flower scented.

Comfortable and safe is the way I feel in the moment.

Such a fleeting moment.

The heat leaves quickly,

You are never warm for long.

You say it’s my fault, so I do it.

All of it and then some,

Perfectly every time.

Trying to hold the warmth,

It’s fading,

I feel it coming.

The cold, the bitter wind that cuts deeply,

Soul shredding,

Depersonalizing.

Who even am I anymore besides afraid?

Besides not enough.

Besides a punching bag:

a scapegoat, a tool, disposable, unworthy, crazy, stupid whore.

Maybe this time when the cold comes it will kill me?

I think this time I’ll just let it kill me.

I’ll stand there frozen in your wrath like the other times before.

Unable to think,

unable to speak,

Too terrified to do anything,

Because it always ends up worse.

Why when I make it better does it always turn out worse?

I deserve this though, right?

I’m pretty awful, I admit.

Right?

Do I even know anymore?

The constant reminders over the years have this solidified in my brain.

It’s drilled in. It’s true.

Truth, because I believe it.

I accept it. It’s me.

Who he conditioned me to be.