The Coldest Place

 

I can always forgive, but I’ll never forget. Is it really home? No, it’s The Coldest Place.

 

I will always remember The Coldest Place. The place where my screams still echo through the halls, and the rugged and ragged old dusty polyester carpets are still drenched in my tears.

 

I’ll never unsee the walls lined with the spatter of my blood as the Coldest One slit my skin corrupting the innocence I’ll never be able to revive.

 

Scents of rust and old mildew, and wet dogs. The taste of my salty tears running over my lips. 

 

And above all, the most sickly scene. A beautifully ugly shroud masking the evil things that were done behind closed doors.

 

Fake smiles, phony laughter, hugs exchanged while secretly holding knives close to the small of each other’s backs. Yes, this was and still is The Coldest Place.

 

I will always remember screaming and begging for my mother, as she looked down upon me with revolted eyes full of hatred and distaste. She would cast me out like a penny in the rain. For I was never her price to pay. 

 

I remember fighting tooth and nail for everything I stood for. Clawing my way to the top of the pits of my despair. Screaming for the injustice to be called out and looked upon. Relying on a knight in shining armor and realizing it was just a scared boy covered in tin foil.

 

I remember suffocating just to breathe again and losing my mind from endless praying.

 

I remember casting everyone out of the corners and crevices of my heart. Turning stone cold and relishing in the dark. Knowing that anything anyone could say to me, I’ve called myself worse. 

 

I remember sewing my corrupted bleeding heart together with solid teflon. Putting up a front and breaking apart all alone in the crevices of my own space. I remember people approaching me slowly and me screaming for them to spare me their empty promises. 

 

I remember living everyday with the breath of death on my neck. How could I not have become numb to the concept?

 

I remember shutting down all emotion. All feelings. Anything that made me human. Anything that made me weak.

 

I remember becoming the personification of brokenness. Slowly succumbing to The Coldest Place. 

 

Then, I remember a warm hand. Slowly melting the stone exterior of my shoulder. I remember crying into the man’s chest, allowing the heartbroken boxed in child to finally cry out and be heard. To finally be comforted. To finally be loved. 

 

I remember slowly letting down the walls allowing the warmth to flow inside. I remember slowly healing. I remember staring the Coldest One in the eyes. I remember overcoming. 

 

I remember to always choose love. I remember that every feeling I have is valid. I remember surviving, but also learning to live in the process.

 

I remember hope, kindness, and joy. Youth, family, and understanding. I remember slowly leaving The Coldest Place.

 

I remember being free.