I am still angry, and I am allowed to be, damn it.
I can be angry that you told me I would “get used to it”
and that you invalidated my pain, sighed at my tears,
when you shamed me for not fulfilling your wants.
I am angry that you wouldn’t meet me halfway.
Why did I have to come around to your perspective,
your interests, your thinking? Why was I the one forced
to cram myself into a tight box that did not fit my soul?
I am angry and I have a right to be, damn it.
These days I would never stand for anyone pushing me around.
Now I would never allow you to touch me if it hurt like that.
I have grown out of you. I have reclaimed my mind and body
and everything in between. I am too strong for you.
If you tried to touch me now you wouldn’t be able to.
If you tried to tell me to get used to the pain,
I would laugh lightly and spin on my heel
and march into the sunset all by myself, strong, content, whole.