On nights like these, I can almost feel those moments replayed. In my car, I speed down winding back roads, music blaring, trying to block out what used to be. Sadly though, the music isn't loud enough to drown out those dirty parts that make up the mess that is called me. That grief-stricken teen, the one who would have done anything to survive. Those are the things I can never quite forget. As the music gets louder and the roads get curvier, I sink back into who I used to be. But just for a moment. Suddenly, thoughts of those moments where I gave everything away seem to come flooding back in, leaving no room for breathe. That moment where I was trapped underneath him, terrified that screaming would make things worse. Then the moment where I trusted him to take those very large parts of me. Another moment where I thought I couldn't live and almost gave up. All of the moments where people told me I was crazy. The moments I lied and covered up the cuts. The moment where I got called into the office..because people were "concerned." The moment where I wished it would all just end. Then the moment where I took him back, then ran to the next "him." The countless moments I gave myself away, searching for the pieces that the first "him" stole. Every moment that almost broke me, and yet I am still here. Those moments together are who I am today. Though I am proud today, I am ashamed of who I used to be.