My Box

My Box

A spoken word about abuse in relationships.


Being able to stand up here is a miracle for me. Being open and vulnerable is new for me.
Because a year ago, I couldn’t tell you who I was.
I couldn’t tell you that my favorite place to eat is the ale house back at home because it wasnt his.
I couldn’t tell you that my favorite part of my body is my waist because it wasn’t his.
Because I thought compromising is what happens when someone loves you.
Well compromising turned into obeying. Asking me to stay the night changed into manipulative phone calls telling me that if I didn’t go see him, he would kill himself. Saying “I love you” turned into “take your pants off”.
I wasn’t allowed to touch him or stand too close to him in public because he was afraid that girls wouldn’t be attracted to him if they knew he had a girlfriend.
Friends would tell me to leave him, that I didn’t respect myself but how can you turn from someone who tells you that what love is supposed to be. “aw come on you know you’re pretty cause I don’t date ugly people” “Babe, you’re my girlfriend. You have to have sex with me”
When his friends call the one night you are allowed to sleep in your own bed at home saying that I have to come take care of him because he’s drunk and screaming for me.
My life was laying in bed not being able to breathe because all I wanted was for him to love me as much as I loved him.
He is your light.
He is the match you have to protect from the wind because if it goes out, you’ll be alone.
He flickers: one day he loves you and the next he tells you you’re crazy and that you are worthless. My life was his. My entire being was based on his opinion.
I couldn’t tell you how I got there. I can’t tell you how I got in that box. Because that’s what abusers do. They put you in a box with one beam of light coming down on your face.
You get so tired of being strong. I got so tired of people telling me that I shouldn’t be upset because he was a dick anyway.
That’s what people don’t understand. I knew that he was mean and horrible but I stayed for two years thinking that because I loved him, it would get better.
That love is not worth it.
That is not love.
Love is kind and wonderful and frustrating but never cruel. Never manipulative. That love is not worth it.
Everyone deserves to get out of that box. You climb. You fight. You sneak. You scream. You crawl. You do anything you can out of that box. No one deserves that.
I’m standing here and my box is way over there.
I did not deserve that. You do not deserve that.
That love is not worth it and I am not his.

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