Posts Tagged ‘rape’

When the pool of teardrops are in the corner of my eye, welling up with nowhere to go, it’s the thing that pushes one drop over the edge and onto my cheek, causing all the rest to overflow. It’s the thing that made me walk into the street without looking both ways. It’s the emotion that makes me come home and watch television alone so I don’t have to address the pit in my stomach that carries the weight of an infinite ancestral line of ache.

I want you to be a witness to my pain. I want you to acknowledge my misery. I want you to see the good and the bad of me. I want you to love me even in the deepest pit of my underworld journey.

There is something I cannot move beyond in the fact that you knew me and loved me before the innocence was sucked from my being. Before my energy was drained from my life force. It makes me think I will never be loved again the way you could have loved me. So purely and wholly. Before I was damaged. Love in innocence.

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You had an infectious smile. Everyone in town thought you were great. Even now if I meet someone from the area, they know you. The girls all love you (unless they dated you).
The boys all hate you (you took their girlfriends). The parents can’t decide if they love you for your joy or hate you for your sneaky, sly personality. Must be rough being so slick.
I can picture your huge smile. Both devious and loving at the same time, which is why it’s so fucked up.

I have never hated anyone the way I hated you. You made me hate myself. You made me hate being open. You made me unable to be vulnerable.
It’s weird looking back to see how you can be so well loved and so hated at the same time. It’s hard to live with these contradictions.

The number of times I’ve yelled at you doesn’t heal what you did to me. The numbers of times I’ve looked at you and known you might as well be a stranger doesn’t heal it.
The number of times you have apologized doesn’t make it better. I think I am slowly starting to get over it now though. You were a kid. Can I forgive the part of you that was a kid?
And still hate the situation?

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when you kissed me i thought it was a joke. you told me i looked hot in that sarong. we had gone to the mall together that day. all of our other friends had left for college. you were the first person to finger me. you did it that first day and i told you no. that should have been my hint.

i still hate you.

parts of me still love parts of you though, and that is what makes it so fucked up. if i could just hate you it would probably be a lot easier.

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Seeing you for the first time in years is surreal. Stranger than surreal. You gained weight. Have a new haircut. Smell different. Act different. It is almost like it isn’t you. I have spent so many years of my life being angry at you, and that you doesn’t exist any longer. That you is gone. You aren’t the small, energetic, muscular teenager who smelled like a boy should smell and seduced me with your smile. You aren’t the relentless, argumentative youngster who would try to convince me to sleep with you. You aren’t the sly, manipulative, lying kid who told me you had been tested but hadn’t. You don’t even have the same sexual prowess. You don’t have the swagger you once had.

I hate you. I hate you in a way I have never hated anyone. You caused endless pain in my physical body and crushed my emotional spirit in unspeakable ways. You forced yourself on me over and over again. You twisted my words and my feelings to make it feel like it was my fault.

Now you are in front of me and I want to scream at you. I want to hit you and punch you and slap you. I want to push your face into the dirt. But you are just so pathetic. You actually thought I would come here and we could “reconnect.” You thought you could apologize and the years would have healed all and maybe we could sleep together. You hadn’t let go of your high school fantasy that we would be together. Someday marry. Kids. White Picket Fence. Have It All.

You can’t reconnect with someone you raped.

Now you are crying. You are apologizing. You are saying you are sorry and acting like I am telling you things you didn’t know before. But it’s like you are a stranger. A stranger apologizing for things someone else did to me. I look at you and I want it to be the you from high school. I want it to be the you that did these things to me apologizing for your actions. But you are so far away. I can’t even tell you to fuck off because all I really feel is that I don’t know you.

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i would lie on my stomach. Pillow propping me up to try to make it hurt less. Tears streaming down my face. i would hear the lyrics of the Tori Amos song in my head “These things go through you head. When there’s a man on your back. And you’re pushed flat on your stomach.” i would wonder if this is what it felt like to be raped. i didn’t wonder if i was being raped. Just if it would be the same physical sensation.

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i am so incredibly grateful to you; you will never know. i’m pretty sure one single fuck could never mean as much to anyone as this meant to me. X told me to get a crush on you, and i thought i couldn’t, partly because you seem so young. but you smell so damn good, i figured a little flirting never hurt no one. i thought we would sleep together at some point, and when we did, i realized maybe sleeping with 23-year-olds was brilliant. you can fuck again almost immediately. the first time we kissed was the second time we slept in the same bed. we were so innocent that first night, because maybe you had a girlfriend? but once we kissed you said “fuck, now we have to have sex.”

you were the only the 4th boy i ever had sex with. i bet you thought i had had dozens. we kissed for a while and i told you if we were going to have sex we needed to talk. i told you i had been raped in high school. i told you i got nervous about certain things sexually and told you the rules. i told you if i said stop you had to immediately. you were sweet and understanding even though we barely knew each other. it wasn’t a big deal but you took it seriously enough to make me feel safe. we had fun. in the morning i felt so good about it. you were the first person i slept with who didn’t already know about my history. this was one of the most healing moments in my sexual life. it made me realize it really was ok. things were going to be fine. you could just have sex with someone. i continue to have a bit of a crush on you and flirt with you sometimes, but who knows. maybe i overwhelm you, or maybe you just aren’t that into me. either way, i care about you as a person and want all the good things for you.

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you are #13’s best friend.  the first time we all hooked up, it was my first threesome.  i was slightly nervous at first because #13 was still only the 3rd person i ever slept with.  also, you and i had just met, so i only trusted you by proxy.  it was fun and silly and exciting, but brief.  it was good practice for me to communicate my likes and dislikes to you. i thought you were fun, but didn’t really know you. then we came to visit you on the road trip.  we were there for days and never left the house.  much of my sexual exploration has been with you and that’s partly why i appreciate you so much.  we can love each other like friends, even though we barely knew one another, and we can fuck like we aren’t “in love”.  so i don’t remember the sequence of events, but we did a lot of making out in your city.  you videotaped me and #13 (with a strap on), we videotaped you and x, we all hooked up, we made a “how to female ejaculate” documentary film.  you asked me if you could fuck me, and i was still nervous, so we didn’t that time.  by the time you came to visit me here, i had already slept with #16 and #17, so i knew i could handle it.  after you spent the night, you said “i don’t think you’re a dyke anymore.”

you are an amazing lover.  i’m not even sure what’s the attraction between us, but you are the most thorough person i have ever had a sexual encounter with.  when we fuck, it is for hours.  like high school.  i love your playfulness and openness.  this makes it seem all sexual, but i also love arguing with you and talking smack and thinking about politics.  but mostly, you’ve been an integral part of my sexual development.  you said to me one of the most important things anyone has ever said to me about sex.  we were gchatting and i was telling you that i always tell boys i was raped in high school before i fuck them so that i can give them a list of what is ok and what isn’t ok.  you told me, “you don’t need a reason for what you’re not into… it’s just as fine to be like, ‘i’m not into that’.” i wonder if you know how important that was for me to hear. i would like to keep you as an occasional lover and a sweet friend, and rare as that is, i think we can pull it off. you are kind of amazing.  thanks.

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