7 days and counting

I thought I knew how rape felt, how it was hard to breathe and move and it would only hurt more if I’d tried to fight him.
Flash backs from when I was around 120 pounds, 4’11”, middle school. Face down, ass up, face against the floor. Palms and nails digging into whatever I could, the man’s thighs, the moist floor. And I survived that. I forced my mind to leave my body for a moment or two so that I could go on. And 10 years later I still have nightmares about the same thing, over and over and over and over. But they didn’t seem to disturb my dreams anymore, I would just sleep it off knowing how the sick game would end. Dead baby, MJ moves on, rapist moved on, life keeps on rollin’.
And now, 10 years after that. This new individual took something I thought it was not possible for anyone to take from me. I did not know he could leave me so broken, I did not know my almost empty cup could feel even… emptier? Is that a word? I did not know how fucking broken I truly am until… now. 7 days later and I have scissors in my hands again. 7 days later and it’s hard to look into the mirror and see what’s left. 7 days later and I just feel like I’m vanishing, it’s dark inside my head… I am numb, tho. I shall survive this too. And then these scissors on my skin are cold and it makes me tingle a little, it’s stings… a little… maybe a little deeper would be too much…. maybe a little deeper would never be enough.
I shall survive this too.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s