Fionnghuala Duanei

There was a time in her life when she felt small and helpless. When she closes her eyes, it doesn’t feel that long ago. Being a fighter makes her feel strong, but it’s hard for her to control. And it’s hard to explain. The feelings are clear in her head but she doesn’t have the words to say them. Right now, she’s still trying to make sense of them. Hitting feels good. Anger feels good; but it’s blinding. It becomes hard to know when to stop. Not everyone is deserving of it in equal amounts, but knowing when to stop or being able to seems impossible. And there’s something satisfying in cruelty; for a moment at least. The shame comes quickly, but never lingers long enough to prevent the same sequence all over again. She feels like a bad person doing bad things, and that she must have deserved the bad things that once happened to her. It’s so confusing, like a tornado of thoughts swirling in her head. She will never have the right words.