i am nobody's punching bag, doormat, or venom receptacle. i've lost track of the number of times i've been cursed at, spat upon, or hit by men- always men- until the names and faces just blur into one big, angry man. the beast. i've had more than my share of him. he wants me to forget, to forgive, to give him a second chance. No, mr. beast, some things, some words, some actions, can't be undone, can't be grabbed back from time because time only goes forward. people only grow up, not down, and as they grow they learn. i've learned that, in some cases, it doesn't pay to forgive and forget because, as time goes on, the broken hearts become broken bones and the bloody noses become bloody head wounds. i know that you'll always come back to find me, wearing a different mask, bearing a different name, but there are no second chances for you, mr. beast, not from me, not anymore. Go back to your cave.
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