Change

I can't help but contemplate everything. I have the ability to go back. I could start completely over if I tried. I could reset my life, grow up with a father, not have to suffer the abuse I have for nearly my entire life. I could turn back the clock on myself and be a little kid again. The responsibilities I can't handle, the pain I can't keep hiding, the memories I can't keep running from, they'd all be gone. I could make new memories, better memories. I wouldn't have to be alone anymore.

I would have no recollection of the things they'd done to me as a child, of the things that people continue to do to me. I'd be surrounded by love and support, something I'd always craved but just recently found. It's not enough now. Not after so many years of being kicked again and again, literally and otherwise. I've bled and cried and begged every God there is to just let it end, went through all my days behind a mask of nonchalance, pretending to enjoy my life even when I know that I want, need, even deserve so much more. I wouldn't have to do it anymore, though.

But could I do it? Could I go back and reset my life, leave everything behind? My wife and girlfriend wouldn't be that anymore. They would just be pretty ladies who lived with our family, friends of mommy and daddy. I would be leaving my own children fatherless, just as I have always been. I would still be there, but as a child. I would grow up not knowing who they were, and they would grow up watching their own father regard them as total strangers. And if I was ever told that they were my children, the memories would come back, and it would be all for naught. Could I really do that to them? To myself?

Nothing would be the same if I were to go through with this, if I were to go back to being a child and grow up all over again without the pain. Would that be for the better, though? I would no longer be me. I hate myself, but at the same time, it's a scary thought. That I would exist, but at the same time stop existing as I am. They say that a person is shaped by their experiences. How would I be if I took away all the pain? The nightmares would stop. I wouldn't cut myself anymore. I wouldn't have a problem with taking care of myself, doing things I know I need but feel I don't deserve. But at what cost?

I tremble as I contemplate everything. A hand touches my cheek softly, and I flinch instinctively. Would that be the same if I changed it all? I can't breathe. I can't think. I feel soft lips brush up against my own as fat tears roll down my cheeks from the corners of my eyes. I sob and cling to the beautiful woman in front of me, my wife, throwing my arms around her shoulders as my shoulders shake. I cling to her as if she is the only thing keeping me on this earth. Most of the time, honestly, she is. I've been telling her my thoughts, becoming more frantic and erratic as I've gone on until I snapped yet again and I didn't even notice. I'm in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, shaking and screaming and sobbing and trying so hard to breathe but I can't, I can't, I fucking can't, and it hurts, everything hurts and I just can't...

She rubs my back soothingly, and I slowly calm down, tears streaming down my cheeks. I want to do this. I have to. But I don't know if I can.

"But if you could, would you really change a thing?" Her voice is soft and firm at the same time, and it's exactly what I need right now. The softness lets me know that I am safe in her arms, just as I've always been; the firmness lets me know I'm just as much as the softness, because I know she won't put up with my bullshit, and I'm honestly the biggest danger to myself right now.

And I look into her eyes, those beautiful hazel eyes, and I think. I struggle with thought on the best of days, but this is the worst. Still, she is there. I know that no matter what, this is my choice, and she'll support me through it all. I know that I'm not alone anymore. I cry a little harder, but she stays firm, rubbing my back soothingly but keeping her eyes trained on mine. As always, it's exactly what I need. She is exactly what I need. "I... I-I don't know," I sob frantically. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't fucking know..."

"Shh," she whispers, stroking my hair softly in the most comforting way. "It is alright, love. You don't need to know. Just relax."

But I can't relax. I know that I need an answer. I start to shake my head, and that's how I get it. No.

"What's the matter, liebling?" she asks, holding me, looking slightly worried.

I just keep shaking my head. "I can't. I can't. I won't. Fuck. I just. Fuck."

And she doesn't ask me to explain. She understands. She knows exactly what I mean, exactly what I need, and probably exactly what I'm thinking.

It's always going to hurt. I'll always have nightmares. I'll always cut myself. I'll always cry. I'll always panic. I'll always remember. But losing what I have now is not worth getting rid of it. I hate the person that I am, but it's not someone I would trade for some peace of mind. Who I am has everything I've wanted. Sure, I've been without that for my entire life, up until very recently, and it hurts, and I can't stop crying because I can't escape the memories and God, does it hurt. But in some sick, fucked up way, it's worth it. I have a family. And because of them, I'll always come back.