The joy of your youth had a hole ripped in it under the guise of love.
The decision of how you should define love was made for you by others.
It was made out of the fear and ignorance of what others knew.
They wanted you to know the fear and ignorance they saw.
They wanted to know that they were not alone in what they saw and felt.
So they did it to you to protect you.
They gave you the first wound, so you knew it was a wound.
In the ecstasy of self-awareness, they forgot what they did, so they repeated it again and again.
Until they knew that you knew that they knew too.
And they said they were sorry.
And you were left with a gaping hole in your life, that you try not to fall through.
You try to hide it. You try to fix it. You try not to fall through it while others watch because they will see you and judge you.
They will try to save you as a way to save themselves. Their fears will make them ignorant of you and your hole. They will rip the hole bigger with the best intentions of making it smaller.
Then you will not know where the hole is and it will swallow you.
Falling in to the darkness of your soul. The despair, the pain, the blindness, the numbness all wrap themselves around you.
They squeeze you tight. So tight that you stop the fight and continue to fall.
Then you stop. Stop caring. Stop feeling.
Then you stop falling.
You open your eyes, brush yourself off and stand up in the hole in your soul.
You find the feelings, the fears have gone. Leaving you with the hole in your soul,
that you try not to fall in, again.