*While the words written are my own- the story is of someone else fighting a battle she has been afraid to share herself, but wishes to. I want you to know that you are not weak for feeling upset- you are right. Your emotions are valid. Your courage is astonishing, and your trials will refine you. I hope I serve to convey your story, and emotions well* You are enough- I love you
Rape. It is not grey, regardless of what they tell you. It is black, and it is white. I didn't want it. The feeling of violation. Demoralization. The denigrating feelings from another human as they impose themselves unto you, and you cannot deny them.
I didn't say no.
I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Why did I go there in the first place, rather than listening to my intuition. I hardly knew him, and I assumed he was good. My innocence was my downfall at best, and now a mourning of its' loss at worst. I still catch wafts of his overbearing cologne as he turned my lifeless body over, and heaved a sigh that sent shivers down my cold, and aching lifeless body. As he slid his hands up my shirt, and asked if he could keep going, and I blankly stared at him unresponsive, and he dug in trying to impress me.
I have to leave. I have to be home- I have a class in the morning.
But he had become a monster. As he bore himself over me, an inferno of dominant manliness, or so he thought on a quest for the prize- he took no excuses, and regardless of my absence, and lack of response after a brief period, decided in his triumph he was pleasing me. Told me I was pleased, and became enraged as I expressed no pleasure bearing down all the harder on my fragile physique. I look down now, and I see her. Her blank gaze. This girl who laid limp- I am so sorry I didn't better take care of you. That I was so foolish.That I was such a slut, or worse yet that I called you that for so long, and believed this for things that I still struggle to believe aren't my fault.
I recall when he finished, and he looked away from my eyes, and told me that I owed him. That I had not satisfied him. His demands and desires. Things I would have to come back and finish later. That I had not done good enough. That I was not good enough. I have been destroyed by the thing for which I am most fearful of. The mantras no longer mean anything. You have found the thing for which I am most afraid, and manipulated every string.
I want to hate you, but I go numb beneath my thoughts. I want to forgive, but really the things I would do to forget. When a man enters my vicinity- I begin to tremor as if it were your cold touch, or your fiance you concealed. I long to confess, but you made me swear to keep everything a secret.
Rape. I'm a whore. It was the mantra I walked around playing like a pop song in my head. Eating me alive, after I had worked so hard to overcome everything else that I had worked so hard to forget.
I may have fallen beneath you, but I am a survivor. I am not the secrets buried inside of me. Etched into my mind. I do not know how to move on, but I know that I will keep walking- You do your best- and it will be enough.
*While I know the girl inside was afraid to share... thanks for letting me release your inner demons for you. You are so incredibly brave. Keep fighting.*
Rape. It is not grey, regardless of what they tell you. It is black, and it is white. I didn't want it. The feeling of violation. Demoralization. The denigrating feelings from another human as they impose themselves unto you, and you cannot deny them.
I didn't say no.
I don't know what the hell is wrong with me. Why did I go there in the first place, rather than listening to my intuition. I hardly knew him, and I assumed he was good. My innocence was my downfall at best, and now a mourning of its' loss at worst. I still catch wafts of his overbearing cologne as he turned my lifeless body over, and heaved a sigh that sent shivers down my cold, and aching lifeless body. As he slid his hands up my shirt, and asked if he could keep going, and I blankly stared at him unresponsive, and he dug in trying to impress me.
I have to leave. I have to be home- I have a class in the morning.
But he had become a monster. As he bore himself over me, an inferno of dominant manliness, or so he thought on a quest for the prize- he took no excuses, and regardless of my absence, and lack of response after a brief period, decided in his triumph he was pleasing me. Told me I was pleased, and became enraged as I expressed no pleasure bearing down all the harder on my fragile physique. I look down now, and I see her. Her blank gaze. This girl who laid limp- I am so sorry I didn't better take care of you. That I was so foolish.That I was such a slut, or worse yet that I called you that for so long, and believed this for things that I still struggle to believe aren't my fault.
I recall when he finished, and he looked away from my eyes, and told me that I owed him. That I had not satisfied him. His demands and desires. Things I would have to come back and finish later. That I had not done good enough. That I was not good enough. I have been destroyed by the thing for which I am most fearful of. The mantras no longer mean anything. You have found the thing for which I am most afraid, and manipulated every string.
I want to hate you, but I go numb beneath my thoughts. I want to forgive, but really the things I would do to forget. When a man enters my vicinity- I begin to tremor as if it were your cold touch, or your fiance you concealed. I long to confess, but you made me swear to keep everything a secret.
Rape. I'm a whore. It was the mantra I walked around playing like a pop song in my head. Eating me alive, after I had worked so hard to overcome everything else that I had worked so hard to forget.
I may have fallen beneath you, but I am a survivor. I am not the secrets buried inside of me. Etched into my mind. I do not know how to move on, but I know that I will keep walking- You do your best- and it will be enough.
*While I know the girl inside was afraid to share... thanks for letting me release your inner demons for you. You are so incredibly brave. Keep fighting.*
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