Abuse In Solitude

These past months of solitude have shown me much about myself. For the first time in my life, since before I could remember, I have been completely removed from every and any kind of abuse. Never ever feeling safe. Not knowing what real love was. I have what been able to see what my heart and soul had been twistedly molded into. This deformed, rejected creature who was more then willing to let the monsters steal whatever they wanted from me. My flesh. My virtues. My emotions. My feelings. My heart. My dreams. My hopes. Anything that would make me, well alive, living, breathing, independent. A person of free will. Capable of caring for myself. I was a robot controlled by the first beast to take the controls. No self-esteem, no self-worth. I was a weakling trying to play strong. A part I failed at. All those I looked up to. Hoping to help me. Took more. I never got help. Just more a abuse. I trusted them. They never saw how hurt I was. They kept blaming me. I was wrong. I was hurt, broken. That was wrong? Why? Why did you let it happen?  Why didn't you save me from the pain like you said you would? Why didn't you protect me like you promised? I was alone. You blamed me for being a victim? I had no security. I wasn't safe. I thought the only way out was death. You made me believe I wasn't loved, I couldn't be. I was no good. All I was worth was less then your garbage. Is it my fault for not knowing I wasn't ever really loved? Was it my fault for thinking it was ok to be beaten, taken advantage of, with no words to speak? Was it my fault for being afraid of brutal monsters eating flesh, my soul? Am I not human, simply because each person I opened my heart to, willingly molested, beat, shredded and left my heart to die in filthy pits, because I didn't know how to stop it? Because I believed that was love?