"Becoming Porcelain: My Silent Escape from Imperfection"

**Now that he has me, I’m under his spell.**

I wish I were a beautiful porcelain doll. Porcelain—so fragile, so perfect—so quiet. If I were, there would be no flaws to point out, no questions left unanswered. I’d be an object of beauty, something untouchable. I wouldn’t feel the ache of wanting to be more, of trying to be enough. I’d sit there, motionless, as his possession, completely under his control, safe from the messiness of emotions.

But I’m not a doll. I can’t be one.