Once Was A Whore

Time heals all wounds, doesn't it?

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For the first time in my life I seem to have arrived. I don't need people around me to be happy. Don't need interaction with others to prove to myself I'm not lonely. Back when I lived in the city, loneliness was my constant companion. People were around me and yet I was always alone. I fought so hard to get just a little recognition. But this was never granted to me. I was beaten even though I was on the ground. My wounds were negated and yet I never wanted to give up. My fight became my life - my fucking nightmare that almost killed me.