Beaten, battered and bruised I wipe my bloody face off and struggle to my feet... the pain is unbearable numb but so much pain. Countless times i rewind this same process as i stumble down stairs to a friends house to help repair the damaged other shell.

Over and over I wonder what i keep doing wrong, why can't i make him happy... "if only".. or what if i hadn't said "that" Daily i tip toe around my own house and him to appease him and his needs, disregaurding my very own safety, needs, and desires. How did I let this man take my strength, passion for life, and my own identity. How could I turn into this meek insecure shell of a women who is no longer living life but existing.

Ruth portrum 2/09