What it means to be resilient.

I've never had anyone leave me before.

I just thought you should know this,
and maybe you did,
actually I'm sure you did.
I'm sure you were aware of all the
ways I felt insecure in my existence.

I know you haven't forgotten me
and I think that's worse.
I think you cared, perhaps too much,
Do you doubt your decision?
Or do you stand by it as long as
it didn't put you in jeopardy?

I wish I could know
if you've already moved on,
tending to the hurt of other people.
Refusing to ever see my hurt again.

I say I won't let you control me,
I won't let the pain dictate my future.
You shouldn't have that much power.
But the truth is, you do.

You wield an ungodly amount
of power that I can barely grasp.

I was in your hands.
I was under your care,
while acknowledging my autonomy,
learning how to use my voice.

Now my voice stutters even more.
Now my body sweats and twitches
and I hardly know how to move.

But I move, somehow,
despite a decrease an appetite,
despite my self-sabotage,
despite often falling to the floor,
despite my mind trying to convince
me these 6 months never happened.

I guess this is what it means to be resilient.