Acceptance

She was ten years old. No... Not even ten years old. She was younger. A child. A young, innocent little child already forced to fight a trauma no young girl should ever have to fight.

'My favorite cousin,' You'd all say to her as she was growing up. 'Seeing you lights up my entire day,' She believed it. She always believed it. Of course she did. She loved you. Trusted you, even. You were her family. All of you. She always thought you'd catch her when she fell.

So, where were you? Barely ten years old. Trying her hardest to stay alive while carrying the burden of a trauma she never should have had to experience. So, where were you? Where were all of you when shit hit the fan?

Big families were supposed to be loyal towards one another. Big families were supposed to be there for each other. Stuck like glue to protect the ones of us who need help. So, tell me, why did you ever think to defend an abuser over that little girl? How did you ever manage to live with yourselves knowing each and every single one of you stuck around for the person who felt comfortable enough to harm a child? Wasn't that not sick? Wasn't that not concerning for you? Big families were supposed to be loyal towards one another... So, why did that young girl have to live with the feeling of being abandoned by her own family all before she hit double digits?

Hard to believe it took sixteen years before any of you ever decided to actually see that little girl again. Sixteen years and you all acted as if it was the girl's fault she hadn't seen any of you since. Almost as if a girl of barely ten years old would wake up one day and go, "Hmm... you know what? I'm sick of blood, so I'll never speak to those people again". Sixteen years later and you all had the audacity to act as if nothing changed. As if I was that same little girl you saw all the years prior. Acting surprised when that little girl suddenly hadn't a clue who any of you were, even if you were her best friend all those years in the past.

Sixteen years. That's how long it took for you to realize that maybe, just maybe, that little girl wasn't at fault.

Sixteen years. That's how long it took for that little girl to finally accept that maybe, just maybe, blood doesn't always make for family.