It's only been two years, so I really don't know for certain, but it seems that, at least for a while, this week of June is always going to be weird for me. I still feel the shadows of the fear and loneliness of this time. I still feel the way some minutes and hours could stretch out and seem far longer than they should have. This is a dark time for me.
I survived, but not all of me did. Part of me was ripped away and destroyed. That's a literal statement, actually, even if it does sound all cliche goth poetic.
Okay, this isn't like a major thing that sticks with me every minute of my day, but sometimes I feel really awful about this whole process. The part of me that would have brought kids into the world was diseased and had to be removed. I never really wanted kids, but that's still a tough pill to swallow.
It makes me feel like my being female was just some kind of cruel joke. I suffered for it and almost died because of it, with no real benefit from it ever coming my way. Then again, I know there are a lot of women who view gender this way, ones who have had far worse things happen to them because of it.
I'm in a pretty dark place right now. I suppose I will be for a few days.
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