Innocence

Innocence is not ours forever. Maybe it leaves us when we first hurt another person intentionally, on a playground during a recess. Or maybe some time in high school, when we learn all too soon that boys can't be trusted. By college, innocence is usually a fading memory. I remember how powerful I felt, knowing I had something that someone else wanted. And after I didn't have that anymore, I still felt powerful, knowing that I was in control of my own pleasure. I may have overdosed on that power. I cheated. I lied. I rationalized it to myself. And if there was a shred of innocence left in me when I became pregnant, I lost in when I chose not to keep the baby. And now, regardless of what anyone tells me, or of what I tell myself, I feel used and spoiled. There will never be pure happiness, pure unadultered joy in starting a family. I am all about feminism and conquering the world, but when all else falls away, I am small and hurting and angry at myself. And this, this typing, this is my therapy. This is what I can do that no one will see, no one will know, how truly weak I can be. Innocence may be a beautiful thing, but it is gone for me forever.