I believe in the Unseen. It’s quite a vague thing to say, I know, but it’s a vague subject. It is rarely touched upon in public conversation. So what can I possibly mean by “the Unseen”? the answer lies behind the closed doors of houses, trailers, cars, even at public events, and in the millions of screaming, terrified souls that suffer domestic violence and abuse. Imagine you are a 10 year-old boy that pokes his little brother in the side and the little brother begins to cry. Then imagine a man six times your size grabbing you by the throat and slamming you against a wall. While you grab hopelessly at your neck, you cry, hoping the worst has already happened.
This was the point in my life when I started to question the moral structure of my family. Many children, women, and men alike, suffer from incidences such as these on a regular basis. My parents, obviously are divorced and yet another statistic in the American divorce rates. I hear stories of domestic violence from the dark corners where the “Unseen” go and dispel painful memories from their consciences. These dark corners are formed, both literally and figuratively, from domestic abuse. They are a place, not of refuge, but hiding. a person will grow exhausted of the abuse and find a place to rest, in their minds or in the actual world.
I believe that the people in this world who suffer, however hurt, are not hopeless. I believe there is a way out for everyone- a light I every dark corner. I, along with millions of others, have my own stories to tell. I am the Unseen, the abused women, men, and children of America are the Unseen their, stories are the Unheard. The day will come however when the Unseen become noticed, and the Unheard sound as loud as cannons, firing shot after beloved shot of relief.
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