In the still of the night…

I lay there and think. I dream. I pray.

I put with all the energy in my body into the positive thoughts of being able to have that dream relationship, marriage, life, etc.

And what those thoughts consist of me thinking about a man entering my life and being nice to me. Nice, it is a cliché word. But nice is the only thing that I can see, hear, feel, and think of when I am imagining my man. I need more than anything to be shown and proven that a man can be nice to me. That a man can hold me in his arms with the gentlest amount of pressure on my mind, body, and soul. What I need is for a man to look me in the eyes and tell me that he wants to hold my heart and care for it like no one has ever done, and be…. nice.

In the still of the night I still think about the words he used to say to me. How he would hold me close and tell me he loved me but in the same breathe, the moment I made him upset, I became the enemy. And there was nothing that I could do bring pleasure to such a lost soul.

There were times I wake in the middle of the night (recently) gasping for air with tears running down my face because I was reminded in my dreams of the pain that I endured. In the still of the night, I still feel the imprint his words left on my skin, the time I cried before the sun came up, or the time I cried the very last time and walked away because I couldn’t do it anymore. I still feel the words wrapping around my throat and causing me to choke on my thoughts, thinking that there was absolutely no way that I could be enduring this type of abuse … again.

In the still of the night I have to constantly remind myself on a loop that “I am safe, I am in a safe place”. At least 200 hundred times before I can fall asleep. And even though I am sleeping, his face appears. His greens eyes are staring down at me, and all that comes out is the words that are telling me that I need to do more, that I am not doing enough, that I am not doing enough for someone that I am doing everything for.

Yet and still, in the still of the night, I imagine this man. A man that exist somewhere on this earth that prays to god for me, every single night. I imagine that a man exists that he thinks of me and a future and a life. And he isn’t afraid of saying “baby, I love you and there is not a single day that goes by that I can’t think about forever withy you”. Someone that looks at me and is able to admit to themselves that I am a woman that they have been waiting for their whole entire life. In the still of the night, I pray. I pray for you, whoever you are. I pray that god holds you close to his heart, and that he mentally and emotionally prepares you for the woman that I am.

I still, after all of this time, of being battered… I hope and I pray that a man like that exists.

Because in the still of the night, I want to roll over and feel safe laying next to you. I want to roll over and tell myself that this is what it was all for. That it is really real, a love that was in my head, really lays in my heart.

But, for now… in the still of the night, I will continue to tell myself that I am enough to receive the kind of love that I pray for. That I am more than enough… for you, but more importantly, that I am more than enough… for ME.

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