It's actually funny. The person you were before this happened was someone I actually knew. Someone I trusted. You were known as the guy that respected any and all women. You would never put your hands on a woman unless consent was given and the feelings were mutual. Problem is, you completely misread everything.
You were there for me immediately when my life changed for the worse. You were there when I cried myself to sleep, when I had panic attacks in the shower, and made sure I ate something that day. You even became close to my family, and to them you were like my older brother. However, I never knew when I was asking for a hug, you thought I was asking for sex.
I can never understand how you took my need for comfort as feelings for you. I can never understand how you made me take the blame when you took advantage of me. I still remember that night in bits and pieces. You knew I was on medication to help with my panic attacks, and you knew it would affect me differently with my lack of sleep. To you, your excuse was how drunk you were. You took my unconscious body as giving consent. I remember vaguely coming to it in and out. I couldn't say anything. It was as if I was frozen, I couldn't tell you no or scream. It was as if my soul left my body. My soul couldn't emotionally handle this trauma; more like any more than it already had. I couldn't process what was happening. I didn't fully comprehend what happened till the next morning when I felt my panties passed my ass. You took advantage of me and you know it. You made me take the blame for it.
What's more fucked up? You were in the car accident with me, and you attended my mothers funeral. You were mad when I didn't have feelings for you. You were mad when I confronted you to your face and I told you, "You know I didn't give consent." You knew damn well you were lucky I didn't report it. Sometimes, I wish I did. At the time I was solely focused on my mother, I knew I didn't have the emotional stability to repeat this over and over to courtroom full of people. Sadly, in this day and age, the judge and jury probably would've let you go. It's always the victims fault. They probably would've said I shouldn't have been on medication. Little would they know that medication was the only thing getting me to sleep at night instead of crying, screaming for my mother to come back.
To you, my rapist, I know damn well you know how worthless you are. You lost the right to be called a man the night you took advantage of me and you will never gain back that title again. The moment any "man" takes advantage of any woman, is the moment he loses any self respect. It's up to him whether or not he denies his mistakes.
