Reclaiming self: a journey of survival and healing...

I have been writitng about everything these days, cannot stop myself; this morning decided to finally write about the the most hellish experience/ connection. I shared it with someone who knew him and what he did and his response was;

 - you wrote this ?
"yes"
-noble prize in literature when?

maybe...just maybe one day I'll actually share what I write with people...

A Narrative of Survival

He called himself a best friend... 

 A Slytherin master of manipulation, Weaving intricate webs of control Around a child's fragile sense of self.

Fourteen. 

 So young. 

So vulnerable. 

A canvas he chose to paint with darkness.

Six years lost. 

Six years where my true self hibernated, Buried beneath layers of psychological control, 

 Waiting to breathe, to exist, to reclaim.

When I finally broke free, 

 The aftermath was a battlefield of emotions:

 Blame.

 Anger. 

Confusion.

But a soft voice emerged... 

Gentle. 

Compassionate. 

"Oh, darling," it whispered,

"You were just a child."

Unaware of the predatory darkness That lurks in human shadows.

Pure. 

Incredibly naive. 

Drawn into a vortex not of your making.

He was a master. 

Not just any manipulator, 

But a serpentine architect of psychological erosion, 

Skilled at sucking life's essence, 

Leaving only a hollow shell.

And when you resist, when you break free? 

The curse lingers. 

Phantom pain of psychological wounds.

But here's the revolution: I turn to my younger self. 

I embrace her. 

I hold her. 

I tell her: You were never at fault.

Lost, yes. 

But never broken. 

Always capable of resurrection.
My reclamation is not just survival. 

It is a triumph.

And with profound pride I can say that my younger self would have seeked my current self to comfort her and that alone is my biggest triumph and self reclamation.