Another emotional piece of mine, the usual depressing stuff...oh dear.

Breathing

You're choking me. There's nothing I can do as your hands enclose around my neck, I try and shake you off but you're so much stronger, what am I to do? You let go briefly and I think you're letting me go, what chance is there of that? You tighten your grip again, this time pushing down on my oesophageus, I can't breathe. My biology teacher told me that it takes a lot of pressure to break the bones or whatever they are around your oesophageus, it feels like you're pushing hard enough. I struggle even harder against you, but you're too strong and you know that. You always have, and you've used that strength against me for as long as I remember.

My vision starts to go blurry at the edges and I panic, all that I can think, the one thought that dominates my entire mind is a chilling one, perhaps the only one that will be able to spur me into action...

You're going to kill me.

I lash out, I'm not sure where I've hit but your grip loosens, I throw myself away from you and scramble towards the door. Your harsh voice reaches my ears,

"Next time I'll fucking kill you", and I believe you will. I stumble into me room and collapse on the floor, breathing heavily. You won't ever admit to it, and I'll never tell them. You'll pretend to be the protective big brother and somehow everyone believes you, no matter how evil you can really be.

It's a strange thing...breathing. So essential to everyone yet so easily taken from us, so fragile yet so powerful. It's strange to sit here and listen to myself breathe, realize with horror that you nearly took it from me. A single tear trickles down my cheek and for the first time in weeks I start to cry. I'm almost ashamed at the tiny tears that roll down my cheeks but at the same time I'm glad that they're there, but don't for one minute think I'm thanking you. I don't thank you for anything.

People think I'm exaggerating when I tell them how evil you can be, no-one ever believes me, after all most the people I know think I need psychiatric help so what chance have I got of making them believe me. I don't need help, I've just grown up being beaten up and that's scared me beyond belief. To an extent I'm scared to live.

I wipe away my tears and get to my feet, I throw Eminem's Slim Shady LP onto the CD player and listen to the lyrics. I don't know how rap, with it's violent words and fast beat helps me to calm down but somehow it does and before long I'm calm again. Calm enough to sit down and talk myself out of killing myself because that would mean you've won.

I'm stronger than that.

You can't defeat me and as long as I'm still breathing you'll never defeat me, nothing you do will ever bring me crashing down, you can't make me fall, you can't make me feel inferior without my permission, you can't make me hurt if I won't let you, you won't break me.

As long as I'm still breathing, you control nothing.

As long as I'm still living, you won't win.