Deemed Unrepairable

I remember the first time he touched me, I felt his hand brushing against mine in a harmless trade of items. It was quick and electric. I felt my body sizzle like lightning traveling from my fingertips to my toes and quickly to my head where I felt dizzy with excitement. How his touch made me feel so alive without meaning to, before I knew I wanted him to touch me more, it was exhilarating.

It was a small moment. One that I would have never realized I would remember forever. Yet, there it is stuck in my head with many moments after. I would have never guessed and I would have never realized the meanings I would give to it now.

Right along with the first time I felt his lips press against mine. Maybe I should say the first time I pressed my lips against his. My desire too strong to contain, I wanted more than a simple brush of his fingers. I wanted everything I could have, everything I could take and everything he would give me. Though I think he knew it was coming, I don’t think he expected me to come and take. Not having a care in the world, I needed to know if his lips would make that same electric feeling, I expected it to hit me like lightning… and so it did. I felt myself hot against him even as he pulled away and I knew right then that he was a magnet to me and I would keep coming and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop.

There were many days between the first touch, first kiss and firsts of everything that came after that, and it had me wanting more and more. Those days were amazing when I felt like there was nothing more I could possibly want than to be electrocuted over and over. Nothing more stood in my mind than feeling him light my body with endless shocks.

I am tortured with those thoughts. I know how it feels to be lit up with amazing energy and to feel that desire coursing through your veins. I want that in my life again. I want that passion to fill every inch of my body. Yet, I feel damaged and unable to be lit. I feel the hardness of my looks, the tension in every touch, and the passion always locked away in some box I hid forgetting where I left it in this maze in my head. I want it back but I can’t say that I will ever have it back. Not the way I once had. Too scared to take it out and feel that electricity hot and then have it go out again. The pain of having something so strong light me up and then take me out is an unbearable thought.

I remember the day where the lightning flashed hard hitting me like no other, right before it burned me straight to my core. The first touch was replaced with the first time he hurt me with his words. Then with the first time he grabbed me with his hands and anger burnt into his eyes. Then with the first time he took me by my hair and dragged my down a hallway. Then the first time he shoved me against a wall hitting my head against it over and over. The firsts became an endless routine with every fight I kept on fighting. Even during the moments of complete weakness where I cried so uncontrollably that nothing would come out. I didn’t give up, I didn’t back down, I didn’t just leave. I felt the stabbing crushing pain in my chest that took my breath away and I often thought I would die. But he was my electricity and without him I thought I would die, left unplugged. I thought that I would turn off and never turn back on again. I was wrong of course, I didn't die.

Yet, he did turn parts of me off that I am afraid will never turn on again. No matter how much I try, I feel as though I will only be half of myself, knowing that… I never feel satisfied. I never feel me!

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