2014, night, returning from the movie with my abusive ex. Our 2-yr anniversary. My sobbing, worried that I'm just like Amy. His snapping a pic of us, though I hadn't yet stopped crying, and showing me my teary, bewildered smile and his teeth.
Later, I get the book from a Sam's Club. 
Try. Stop. 
It shelfsits.
2023, another night, (did I ever really escape?)—
Pride and a changed sorrow in being "just like Amy."
    
    
      — Mar 12, 2023 12:12PM
    
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