When I was younger, I used to lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling. I spent so many nights counting the glow in the dark stars, and the rest just thinking. One ear would be fetched far away in the other room, the other would listen to my head.
Every night when I cried and wished for something more, I kept telling myself “This is not my life.”
It was almost like a mantra that kept me going through those years. This was not my life, this was not it, this was not it would all be. I would leave one day, one day it’ll all be different.
I barely have the same people in my life anymore. I barely have the same problems.
The problems have gotten bigger, more added on the ever-growing list. But I can do this. I can, and I will.
Failure is an option, but stopping is not.
I won’t stop, no matter how much i want to, I won’t.
I’ll take a step back. I’ll go to the beach, look at the stars and cry my heart out, but I will not stop.
I won’t let what happened define me. I will never let things that happen to me define me. I will be defined by the things I do.
I made a stupid decision, but he was a bad person. He was terrible, not me. I was a normal girl in her twenties living her life. He is the one who should live with the fear of it all catching up to him one day. He is the one who should feel ashamed when he thinks of me that night. When he remembers what he did, the way my body, I, was saying no. I hate that my face showed him fear, and I hate the fact that that was what got him going. My face was what made him finish within seconds.
The quickest sex of my life left the most scars.
I can’t sit in other people’s cars anymore.
I can’t drink and sit in other people’s cars anymore.
I can’t watch a movie without getting triggered.
I can’t sit and think too long because every thing, everything just comes back to that one night. I can’t wear the cute outfit anymore, not have chicken nuggets from McDonalds. I can’t do so much anymore.
And I will be okay. I am okay.
