You wanted someone strong; you wanted someone who wouldn’t crack. You thought you were making me tough by breaking me down. You told yourself it was the only way, because I wasn’t the boy you wanted.
I was a girl, your first born. I was delicate, young, and very impressionable. I grew numb to the pain I became accustom to.
You succeeded. You made me into someone the world couldn’t shatter, because you can’t break something that’s already in pieces.