I met my first rapist when I was 13. Ironically, through church. He was 17, nearly 18 that time. We were in a relationship. We did stuff. Remember I was 13. By law, in my country, legally I am not old enough to consent. My parents found out. They knew. They knew he fucked me. They knew. They confronted him later on. But oh. They didn’t go to the police. Even after knowing what he did to me. They didn’t seek justice for what he did to me. Oh. And he’s still alive. Having a normal life. He got away thanks go my loving father and mother. Thank you so much mom and dad. I love you both so much.
It’s been a year and a month since you hurt me. Since you took advantage of me. And it’s nearly three months since you’ve been acquitted. After nearly a year of fighting, I lost.
Everyone moved on. I just want someone to care. Ask me specifically on how I feel. That they would be there for me.
I’ve been distracting myself with work, drinks, food and people. I made more bad decisions leading to making myself worse as a human being.
I don’t even deserve to see you.
I thought time would heal everything. I’ve been told that my memory is based on how I remembered an event the precious time. Its supposed to get less painful.
I love you. Ever since we started talking. Since you opened up to me. Since you started letting me in, into your incredible life. To me, you were so experienced, done and seen so much.
I remember how I felt. The first time I told you that I was in love with you. And how you said you didn’t love me back. If you did, you wouldn’t agree to not speaking for one week.
Fuck. I love you okay.
I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hug you, kiss you, love you, cuddle with you. You were my greatest weakness.
You were never really even there for me. You never acknowledged me as your partner. Yet I was addicted, to you.
It’s not because I am totally comfortable around you and feel like I could tell you everything. I don’t. In fact, whenever we speak, especially about my career, my aspirations in life, I’m always so terrified. I’m anticipating that you would shut me down, that it wouldn’t impress you. I know I sound dumb to you. I’m not. I’m really not. I lose my confidence when I’m with you. I let you walk all over me, and own me.
Yet, everything was so intense. So real. So painful. So good. You were responsible for my adrenaline rushes. You made me crazy. I can’t even really put it into words.
I somehow convinced myself that you do love me, and are scared. Scared of letting people in. And because you pushed me away but telling me you don’t love me back, told me to leave, so I did, I lost your confidence in me. You no longer believe that I will stay. That I will always be there. Ugh. It’s so painful. I keep thinking about the life we could have had. That we could have had it all.
I wanted to make you feel my love.
Career. Education. Money. Relationships. Health.
These are the areas I will look into right now.
- Final year at university
- One semester left
- On study leave
- Finished a semester abroad
- Not great GPA
- Need to finish my on–going courses
- On internship
- Related to studies
- Need to establish connections
- Not the best shape
- Not overweight
- Need to lose weight
- Need to stop scratching and cutting myself
- Need to stop drinking everyday
- Continue martial arts
- Not broke
- Good savings
- Need to jump-start my personal finances
- Need to stop buying so much alcohol
- Stop watching so much TV series
- Stop watching so much porn
- Fix this
- Stop being a bitch
- Stop trying to fix things with people who don’t want it to be fixed
- Appreciate the people who have been with you all this time
- Consider leaving doors shut
- Don’t reply on others do emotional and mental support, the only person who can help you is yourself
- Deal with rejection better
I’m done. I’ve decided. I can’t live like this forever.
The past years I’ve lost track of who I am. I’ve forgotten what I wanted to do with my life.
I’ve become lazy. I’ve stopped driving myself. I gave myself excuses. Blaming others. Blaming events, blaming life. And no, it doesnt make me feel better.
I’ve lost people. Lost friends who I thought I could rely on. Burned bridges. Missed opportunities to develop myself. I need to stop.
Quoted by someone who had gone through a lot and is now of the most successful persons I know, I need to accept that shit happens, I need to accept it. Deal with it, and move on. Let the pain consume me but not for too long. The world will not wait for you.
If it’s still too painful but sufficient time has passed, I need to fake it till I make it. Ha. Corny. But true. Smile though the suffering. Convince others I’m going great. Im a delightful human being again.
I’ve thought it through. I need to surround myself with people, not for support, but for inspiration. Keep in touch with tough people. People who have made it. People who are working their way to make it.
I want to transform myself to someone people would be proud to associate themselves with. Someone my parents would be so proud of. Someone my brother will look up too. And someone who would make a great and amazing partner and lover 😉
My next impossible task, lie to everyone, but especially myself, that I am fine. That I am doing better. That I am succeeding. That I am not hopeless. I am not disposable. That I can go the distance.
Stupid. Irrational. Meant to be challenged
Another time, I met LL at a party, I was 15, he was 18. We made out that night. He texted me the day after that we should meet up. I was so excited. I thought we would go for a nice lunch and take a walk in the park. The moment we met, he called a taxi to take me straight to his house. Everything happened so fast.
I remember his room. I remember looking around his room the whole time. Escaping my body. It felt good to be wanted. But I didn’t want it to go that far. I told him I wasn’t sure. But that didn’t stop him. Because apparently it was implied that I wanted him to fuck me. I got in the taxi with him. What did I expect.
I remember looking down at myself. With him on top of me, holding my hands tightly.
I felt like shit. I was used. It was horrible.
My parents found out. Idk how they sensed it. My father called me a whore and said I should have charged him for money. Yeah. My father. They were so angry at me.
I cut myself that night.