Letter to the man who raped me
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Letter to the man who raped me

why?

13
Letter to the man who raped me

It's been over a year. Over an entire year full of days where the only thing running through me is hatred; other days, all I feel is guilt. Then there are the long periods of time where all I am is empty, a shell of a person.

I hate you. I don't care that I'm expected not to, that I'm expected to have forgiven you by now. I fucking hate you. I hate how I was basically just a piñata to you: something to attack to get what was inside, to take all that you wanted and then just leave. I hate how you didn't give a shit about the broken thing you left behind, and I hate how you got to walk away so easily, when I didn't.

I hate how guilty I feel, even though the guilt shouldn't belong to me. It should belong to you instead, but it doesn't. I'm left with the idea that I should have done more, I should have fought harder. I know it's ridiculous, because you were so much larger than me. I know that I tried my best to escape at first but your hands were as strong as chains around my wrists. I know all of this, but this guilt is inescapable, and it's as heavy as your body was against mine, it's just as suffocating. I don't understand it, and I don't understand you.

Why? Why did you ignore me when I said "no" and "stop"? I was always taught that people would listen to your requests better if you said "please", but it didn't work this time. It was like you mistook my "please stop" for "please keep going, I'm just playing hard to get". Why? How? I know you saw the tears in my eyes, because you looked right at me, but you had the nerve to smile. Why? How? How could you say "I know you want it" when the only emotion I showed was fear? Why? How? I don't understand any of it, I don't understand you.

I'm left with the guilt that you might be ruining someone else's life, doing what you did to me. I'm left with the crushing weight that it's my responsibility to save others from it. I hear it from those that I know, and I hear it from myself. I don't want that responsibility. I don't want to feel responsible for what happened to me, for what might be happening to other people out there. But I do, and it hurts, and I wish you hurt as much as I do.

I wish that I didn't feel guilty for hurting this much. I've been through sexual assault years before you, and I feel guilty that I feel this much impact from you.

You took parts of me, parts of me that can't be returned, parts of me that I don't even want back. What's left of me feels poisoned, tainted; and everywhere you have touched still feels dirty, even after over a year of countless showers.

I'm so tired. I don't sleep much. Your face is constantly behind my eyelids, and with your face comes your smell, and then the room feels as much of a prison as it felt that night. I'm so tired. All I do is try to hold myself together, but it seems like everyday there's a new rip, a new hole inside of me, and it's so hard to find the energy to put a temporary patch on it. I'm so tired. I'm stuck inside myself, my words and voice are stuck inside my chest even though all I want to do is scream and cry, and let everything out to something that isn't paper. I want to be hugged, but you've left me uncomfortable with touch. I'm so tired. The constant feeling of emptiness I'm left with scrapes at my bones, my heart, every piece of me, and I don't know how to fight it. Things that used to fill me with light can barely manage a spark, and even then it is dull and cold. I'm so tired.

I'm tired, but I'm trying my best to fight, and it may be hard. It's so hard. But I've done it before, and I will try my best to keep doing it now.

I hate you, and you don't deserve an ounce of my forgiveness. You don't deserve to have the pieces of me that you do. In my opinion, you don't deserve to even live. That may sound harsh, but it's nothing in comparison of what you've done to me, and I don't regret saying it. The words would most likely fall on deaf ears, anyways, for you were deaf to everything I tried to say when this first began.

You broke me without a second thought. You were able to come and leave, and I will forever resent you for that. You left behind a shattered mess, but I will never stop trying to clean up the pieces.

Fuck you.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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