All my f*cking fault. All of it.

I was absolutely so triggered last night. I was shaking for so long, and trying not to cry. My friend was over at my house for the night, and she mentioned something about triggers for her. And out of nowhere, I had this really bad flashback. I don't even know why I did. So, I started writing about it. I wrote and wrote. When I was done, what I wrote at least four pages of memories, and about how triggered I was.

The thing is, when I was nine, exactly on my ninth birthday, my mom went to prison. She was in jail, and away for a lot of my childhood, but this was worse. She was gone, and I was fully convinced that she would never come back. I thought they would beat her to death there, and I just got so scared about it. It was the same when she was in jail, before she was sentenced to prison, and I could only see her through f*cking glass.

But, you know what hit me? All of it was my f*cking fault. I could have done so d*mn much to prevent it. She would take me with her, when she'd break into houses. One time, she tried to forced to help her, by climbing in a window. But, if I think about it...wouldn't any good daughter tell someone that their mom was planning on robbing a house? But no, I promised her I would never, ever tell anyone she was going to do that. I should have broke that f*cking promise. If I did, my family wouldn't be so f*cked up. I tore my family apart. Why didn't I just say something. It's all my f*cking fault.