Prey vs Predator

My thoughts become paralyzed at the first sign of an outburst of anger. His defiant voice strikes me into weakness. The symptoms are obvious, but not often expected: anxiousness, tensed facial expression and demeaning comments. These debasing eruptions have been so common and influential to my state of happiness, or rather, lack of happiness, that the sound of his angered tone destructs my strength even when the anger is not directed toward me. Similar to how a child who has eaten a high quantity of vanilla ice cream may throw up and forever become nauseated by the smell of vanilla, I am forever incarcerated by the demons that arise from the slightest reminder of his voice. At that breaking moment in which time stops and I realize the events that are about to take place, I shelter my breaking heart in my soft, sensitive self-esteem. I prepare myself for what I can truly never be prepared for: the dissection of my personality, the deterioration of my soul. As it begins, I detach myself from the voice that controls every aspect of my utter being. I detach myself from the shattering soul that I literally feel crumpling inside the tense confines of my stomach muscles. And eventually, it ends. At some point, it must end. And the hardest part of the entire encounter is undergone: I must pretend to forgive him. I must try to forgive him. But it never really ends. It never completely goes away; it always comes back. It’s an endless cycle of preying on the innocence of others, depression, and being asked for forgiveness, being forgiven, and pouncing on them at the next opportunity you get. Forgiveness cannot be continuously granted, so be careful when you’re taking chances..

One day, I will not be your prey.