lonelyone808

The house is two stories, white with a black roof. A red wooden fence surrounds it. The only wall that is visible from the street is dominated by a large window. The sun sets behind the house as a family of four sits around their dining room table, to eat the home cooked meal. It is the picture of a perfect family and a lie.

Two and a half years have passed and the house has passed its prime. What was once proud is broken and dingy, filled with memories more bad than good. The single hall echo’s with a lost and broken childhood. Termites have damaged parts of the house and the floors a filled with holes. The yards are overgrown, the mango trees laden with fruit and the ground is covered with rotten and half eaten mangos. The sickly-sweet smell permeates the yard and the broken faded fence does nothing to discourage the neighbors to collect what they desire as one lonely sunflower watches from the corner of the yard, drooping slightly, but managing to portray a beauty is all its own. The fence that surrounds is more orange than red now, no longer keeping in the secrets of years. Planks are missing and the gate has fallen off its hinges allowing entry, to the ruins of my childhood home.

I don’t live there any longer. Two and a half years ago my friends and families lives were turned onto their heads when I exposed the truth of my step-fathers deceptions. I told a sad and frightening truth about the world of pain I had been living in for two years. I told them all about the inappropriate touches, the bribes and the lies I told to protect my abuser.

In therapy I was told that protecting him the way that I had was a normal response of a victim and a fatherless child. Logically I believed that it wasn’t my fault, that what he did to me was a heinous violation of trust, but him, his lies, and my own lack of self-worth festered in my heart. Hidden from everyone, until the tenuous control of the blackness and I tried to take my own life. The attempt was intercepted by my best friend and I went to Kahi Mohala. For six months I went through daily therapy sessions and I emerged ready to become the woman that you see today.

That old house, my childhood home, was the place that held the greatest influence over my life. I realize now that it wasn’t the house; it was what happened in it. It was the strong comfort when I was a little girl, the place where my family all gathered. Then it was a prison, a place I never wanted to go where I had to face things no child should have to face. Now it is an empty shell, I would like to say that it is what holds the memories of my childhood, but it isn’t. I hold the memories.

Living in that house broke me, but it also allowed me to rebuild myself into a person I can be proud to be. I am a strong, determined woman, humble and loving with a tough independence that holds it all together

In order to be my Dominant you would have to...

*Make me feel like my flaws aren't flaws.
*Be able to answer all my questions accurately.
*Look at me with desire in your eyes.
*Talk to me like a human being.
*Know and understand my limits and why they exist.
*Look at me with an intensity that makes me feel possessed.
*TBC...