39

To you, it is a number.
Two digits, a three followed by a nine.
It represents nothing significant. No mile stone. Not conquest. Not a badge. Nothing.
Just plain, simple, number 39.
Thirty-nine.
Silly how it sounds. Not poetic.
It isn't romantic. It isn't big, or welcoming. It doesn't change any ones life in a drastic sense.
Just small, unassuming, number 39.

For me, ah yes, for me. This number, though, not really the number but the day, the date.
The date this number happens.
This is a date that marks a special thing.
See it isn't thirty-nine. It is thirty.

Thirty since last he darkened my door. Thirty since last I saw his face. Thirty since I remember celebrating a birthday with the demon that haunts my dreams.

Thirty-nine, that's the age. The age I turn today. Thirty-nine.

Thirty years I survived him. Thirty years of wanting to have died, thirty years I have passed without him. Thirty badges of honor to wear proudly saying "you have not claimed me."

39.
A demon tortured me for nine years. He beat and bruised and berated my life.
30.
A child born of fire and despair, I rose and stood when I had to. And now, I stand again, on my day, and shot to him, you still do not have me.

30 Badges for 39 Years

#PTSD #Abuse ##Survivor #Nightmares #imstillalive #Anotheryear #Stronger #BadgeofHonor #Birthday