the sea anemone in me

I hope it's clear, my days of being swayed have expired. The girl I was, her bad parts are realized and dissected and cast off night after night, I could never forget. Her good parts seem hazy and dreamlike, part of some distant fairy tale I'm trying to actualize. Her reality has been cold and hard and the damage done has been unceasing, full of wounds she thought might never heal. She's heard tales of distant wars and the will to fight on, to defeat death or die trying. She wants to live, I'm only now re-learning how to let her.