[and now it's hard to be, a decent human being]

There is a consensus that my reoccurring nightmares of Tyler. Of that house. Of almost two years of manipulation- a consensus that it is coming up again now, spreading itself unwelcomed over my pretty pink new life, because I am safe. I am happy, joyful really. The safest ever.
James touches my face every chance he gets. He kisses my hair. I can feel it, with my eyes closed. All warmth and compassion. It is so full and encompassing. I did not know this Love could really come from a man and that it could be directed completely at me. I did not know that without Tyler that all those things that pressed my bones to my flesh would dissipate. I never considered for a second that he lended to my depression. I have not been suicidal once in the last year. Since we separated. Not even when I was scared and embarrassed and living in my sisters old room. Not when money was scary and the summer was hot. And it has only been a year. I am already the best version of me and it has not even taken me a year away from him. It is that I am allowed to breathe now. It is that I am allowed to have breasts, to have a body. I am allowed to want and feel and need.

It is so ordinary, I know. But it did not occur to me that I was allowed basics with him. I existed for specific purposes and when I wasn't filling them I was unsure of my existence. I have so many photographs, pale polaroids of my face, my arm, my back. I doubted that I took up any space at all. I would cry and cry and he would ignore me for weeks. I put those photos in the garbage a couple days ago. I found them and looking at them was confusing because I almost appeared not to exist in them. I was coloured into the walls, the linens. It wasn't me at all. my face was always so flat then. every one's face was so flat. I could never explain it. People have angles now. they are less muted. I am less muted.
But I am safe now. and regardless of anything I will be okay. That's what it means. that's' what all of it means.