I’m a victim of rape. And I’m ashamed.
I’m afraid no one will ever want to be with me again. I’m afraid that I will never be able to let anyone get close to me again. I don’t want to go on dates because I don’t know what will happen afterwards. I can’t believe that anyone would like me for anything more than sex.
I’ve never felt more worthless. I’ve never felt more disrespected. I was just a body. I didn’t matter. And I still feel that way. No one looks at me and wants to know what I want to be, who I am, or what I like. No one wants to know what I’m thinking, what I’m really feeling under that smile. I don’t feel sorry for myself, it’s just what I believe.
Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I shouldn’t have gone over there. Maybe I shouldn’t have drank. I just wanted to hang out, but apparently anytime a girl and a guy are alone together, they are supposed to have sex.
I remember him kissing me. I kissed back. It was bad and aggressive. My lips were bruised for a week. There was nothing worse than my lips hurting after that and having to remember it. After that, I remember being naked on his bed. I remember him saying he was going to get the condom, and I remember rolling over and squeezing my thighs together hoping he never came back. The next thing I remember is him moaning and laying on top of me. I grabbed my clothes and ran.
I couldn’t breathe. I called so many people. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t breathe. I was so angry that no one answered, but it was 3 am after all. I couldn’t be mad at them. It was my problem, my fault. I crawled into my roommate’s bed and just cried. I never told her what happened.
It was my first time, and I’m afraid I’ll never have the chance to feel what it is supposed to feel like. I’m afraid I’ll never be safe in someone’s arms. I’m afraid I’ll never know what it’s like to not be scared, to not fear when someone will hurt me.
I’m tired of hiding it. I feel like I’m lying to myself by acting like everything is okay all of the time. I wish I could just let it out. I wish I could just cry. I wish I could tell my parents, but I’m afraid they’ll worry and I don’t want to upset them. I’m such a disappointment. I’m afraid people won’t believe me. I’m afraid people will tell me it was my fault, that I was passed out so its not a big deal.
IT BOTHERS ME EVERY FUCKING DAY. IT’S A BIG DEAL.