The Skeletons In My Closet
The skeletons in my closet don't actually represent things I have done and are ashamed. The skeletons in my closet are things that have been done to me that I blame myself for. I drank too much that night. I smoked Arabic tobacco. I was high. I passed out. I thought the worst was over. Until my eyes struggled to open and I could feel your breathe. You had no right. It took me years to realize that it wasn't my fault. You took my innocence. I physically couldn't say no. This skeleton is similar to the first. We dated. I thought you were a good guy, until you weren't. You were emotionally manipulative, abusive, and you physically and sexually assaulted me. You borderline stalked me to the point I almost had to break my silence and seek help. I still can't have my neck touched, I still remember how it felt to have your hands wrapped around my neck. I still remember when you picked me up and wouldn't let me go until I said I loved you. I remember my toes not bei