California in April

I wanted revenge.

I wanted to prove that I am stronger now.

I wanted you to know that I am no longer that naive person that you took advantage of.

I wanted to stand up to you and tell you that you were wrong for what you did and you knew what you were doing, but you did it anyway.

I wanted to show you that I’m not a victim, but a survivor.

But, most importantly I wanted to prove all this to myself by standing up to you.

That’s why I wanted to go back on the second wave of the project. For me, to prove that I am stronger than you.

Leaving Well Enough Alone

It’s something I can’t do. It’s something that just don’t think I’ve ever been able to do it.

You know as a child when they tell you not to pick your scabs. I’m the kid who literally  CANNOT help it. The literal definition of a scan is to help you heal:

So, by me picking at it and ultimately peeling it off, I’m essentially slowing down the healing process. This is my life. This has always been my life. And this is what I feel like I am doing right now.

For the past two weeks, I have been happy. Other than the craziness of traveling back and forth between this project and home because of a wedding and almost getting sick as a result of it.. But that’s neither here nor there. 

The point is. For the last two weekends I’ve been in working in New Jersey, but hanging out in New York City on the weekends. I’ve been enjoying life, spending time with my family and friends, eating all the food and drinking when I can. But slowly and surely, I’ve been picking at the scab that has been forming from my last breakdown last month.

However, when I’m triggered or when something comes up, there are times when I am able to just suppress it (ie. not pick the scab). But then there are times when I can’t/don’t want to suppress it and I need to feel all the emotions as much as possible (ie. pick the scab until it bleeds.) As a result, I start to spiral and parts of me hates it, but then other parts of me are oddly satisfied. 

Is it just me? Or does everyone go through something similar? 

Wild Wild Thoughts 

I feel like if it happens again, this time I will be able to control the outcome.

Does that make me an terrible person?

I want to be put in a similar situation again, so I can prove to myself that I CAN and will control the outcome this time.

Now, does that make me a terrible person?

I’m afraid that every interaction I have with a guy is going to end up the same way.

Am I doing something to lead them on?

Sometimes, I want it to happen again.

I am not leading them on.

If I can prove to myself that I am strong enough to make the right decisions and stand my ground, then maybe I won’t have these thoughts anymore.

But, as I write that, the first thought that comes to mind is that I shouldn’t have to fight you off to get you to stop.

I shouldn’t have to, but I did, and I lost.

How will I know next time will be different?

I know not all guys are the same, but it’s hard to separate what he did, from what all men are capable of doing.

I don’t know for certain if next time will be different, but I know I will be different.


Me Too 

It’s not fair. 

When I see other women and they are so put together & they say that they are survivors of sexual assault as well. I don’t think it’s fair that they are okay & I’m not. I know that it will take some time. But, when will I get to stand tall & proud I say that I survived too? Because as of  right now, I don’t see myself being able to to do that…ever.

When will I be able to say that it no longer affects me? 5 years from now? 2 years? 1 month? 2 more  weeks? The fact that I will never know when I’ll be myself again is what bothers me most. I know I have to take it one day at a time, but these days are getting harder and harder. 

I’m so tired. But, not only that I feel so guilty. I feel as if I’m complaining too much. I feel like I should just get over it because it wasn’t that bad. I feel as if I should be happy, because I’ve lived a blessed life. I’ve had some trials here and there, but overall it’s been good. So I feel like I shouldn’t complain. I feel like I have no right to do so.

And that’s what makes some days harder than others. I am in this enormous amount of pain, but I don’t feel like can express that. There are days where I am overwhelmed by sadness, but I feel like I’m not allowed to be, or at the very least l don’t think I can be.  But then there are days when I’m completely fine. 

I just want to go home. I just want to be happy again. I just want to go back & stop it from happening, so l don’t have to feel this way anymore.

I regret everything…


I think I’m a masochist. In fact, I know I am. Okay, I’m 87% sure. It’s not even that I enjoyed inflicting pain in myself all the time, sometimes I do enjoy it, but most of the time I find it necessary to punish myself.

Why, you ask? I have no idea.

I’ve always been like this. Ever since I can remember, I had the weird fascination with things going wrong, mainly because I wanted to see I would react to the situation. I know I know, you’re not supposed to wish harm on anyone, but if it’s on yourself doesn’t that make it a little better?

Trust me, I know the answer to that is, no. 

Back to the topic at hand, my fascination with pain and sorrow and causing harm to myself, because I like being miserable.

It’s one of the main reasons why I used to cut myself. It started off as anger, then it morphed into a form of punishment. It could be from anything as well, not doing well in school, not doing well in track, not doing well with friends, anything really.

In college, it morphed more into me just being overwhelmed and upset. Mainly, with school and relationships (friendships). Especially junior and senior year, I just couldn’t handle the pressure of being perfect all the time. I know, who do I think I am? I know I’m not perfect and I know that no one expected me to be perfect, or at least they didn’t outwardly say it.

My friends saw me as this strong, outgoing, charismatic, person. And yes, I could be that at times, but also at times I was the complete opposite. I got sad sometimes too. In fact, I got sad a lot of times, for no reason at all. I still do, but I have to keep up with the appearance of nothing ever being wrong.

Even though, I know that’s not at all possible. For anyone.

I hated that I always had to be the strong one. I hated that I had to be there for everyone, but no one was there for me. And I hated that I felt that way. I shouldn’t have felt that way. I had great friends. I have great friends and a great  support system. But, I hated that I wasn’t able to ask for help for fear of being a burden. Thus, I hated that you (ex best friend) made me that way. Because it is your fault, I kept to myself for the long and then when I did let someone in you ruined it. You made me feel as I was the worst person in the world for coming to you with my problems. You made me feel like my problems didn’t matter. You made me feel awful. And for that I hate you. I hate how you made me feel. I hate how you continue to make me feel. And I hate that our friendship is ruined and we can’t even talk anymore.

I hate that I can’t let people in.

I hate that I have so many thoughts,

and I have to keep them all to myself.

I hate that I have so many thoughts.

Not all of them are good. In fact, a lot of them are bad. I don’t act on all of them, if I did I probably wouldn’t be here right now. You can figure out what that means.

I just hate that I have so many and I try my best to make them subside but, the more I try the more they come back. I find myself being able to drive forty minutes without music, and not even realizing it because the thoughts are so loud. I find myself reliving moments in times.

I find myself reliving that night over again.

I continue asking myself if I did anything wrong. Did I lead him on? Could I have said no sooner? Could I have pushed him off harder? Why did I feel so weak? Why did I feel like my voice didn’t matter? Why couldn’t I stand up for myself?

I know better, I should have know better.

But then again…

Why didn’t he stop when I asked him to? Why did he keep telling me to relax? Why did he take advantage of me? Why didn’t he listen when I said,

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m not ready. I can’t. Stop.”

I know it’s not my fault. I know I shouldn’t be blaming myself, but I can’t help it.  Parts of me thinks that I should have been stronger and more assertive. But, society and rules and common decency says that when a person say no or stop the other person should listen to that request.

And you sir, you did not listen to that request. You didn’t listen to my wishes. You didn’t care about me at all, because if you did then we wouldn’t have had sex, you wouldn’t have assaulted me. I wouldn’t have been raped. Oh and I would still be a virgin.

But, hindsight is 20/20.


But I Stayed

I said NO, but I stayed.

So what does that mean?

Does it mean that I wanted it?

Does it mean that I wasn’t strong enough to leave?

Does it mean that I just didn’t care about what happened to me?

I said no, but I stayed.

I didn’t enjoy any of it, because I wasn’t ready for any of it.

But, I stayed.

I should have gotten up and went back to my room, but I didn’t… 

I stayed.

I should have called it a night, the second I became too uncomfortable, but I didn’t… 

I stayed.

I’ve been asking myself every day since it happened why I stayed and I can’t seem to come up with a reason good enough to make it okay. Maybe I was curious. Maybe I liked the attention? Maybe I didn’t want to upset him by leaving? Maybe I didn’t want him to look at me differently? Maybe I was afraid to stand up to him?

But whatever the case may be, one thing remains the same.

I said no. I said stop. But, he didn’t listen.


I Said No.

Trigger Warning: Rape

I said no & I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen.

After a long conversation with a few people, I’ve realized that I did everything I should have done and he still didn’t listen. I said I wasn’t ready, I said I didn’t want to, and he didn’t listen. I gave up trying to say anything, because I knew he wouldn’t listen.

I think I was raped.

I didn’t want what happened to me to have happen. And no, I didn’t consent then to regret it later and call rape. No, that’s not what happened. I said stop. Numerous times. I said no. Numerous times. And he didn’t listen.

He took advantage of me.

Sexual Coercion is what they call it. That’s what happened. That’s why I feel guilty. “If you have said “yes” when you didn’t really want to, know that you may have been sexually coerced. Sexual coercion is when tactics like pressure, trickery, or emotional force are used to get someone to agree to sex.” And the scariest part is I never said yes. I just stopped saying no, because he wasn’t listening anyway.

I shouldn’t have gone back. I literally can’t wrap my head around what I feel, what’s going on or anything.

At times I’m numb, at times I don’t remember, but most of the time I keep playing that night over and over again.

Did I do something wrong? Did I lead him on? Did I cause this? It’s my fault? I must have wanted it otherwise I would have tried harder to get him off, right?

You know how when a car is coming hurling towards you and you know you need to get out of the way otherwise you’ll die, but you freeze from fright?

That’s what happened.

I went back to take control, and I lost it all.

So, isn’t that rape?

Well there goes that… 

I’m no longer a virgin.

Well, technically not?

…Fuck, I don’t know.
The following information is:


but it’s based on real life events. My life. It’s difficult to explain and pretty vulgar.

I guess I attempted, well he attempted, okay I guess it’s not an attempt because it actually happened. We had anal sex. I didn’t want to & it didn’t last long because it hurt too much. He tried twice. But, I still couldn’t take it, so eventually he stopped.

Prior to that however he tried to have vaginal sex with me, but I definitely didn’t want that. But, he was relentless and just kept saying it’s just the tip, it’s just the tip. Although, it definitely felt like more than that. It all happened so fast and he was almost fully inside, without a condom, and without me being on birth control. It was the tip and then some and that’s why I was so scared. I can’t get pregnant, because I don’t believe in abortions. I can’t get pregnant because I’m not married. And I can’t get pregnant because I don’t know him. And this day in age I am too smart to know how not to get pregnant. So if I did, I’m just stupid.

I made him put a condom on though before I turned over for him to go in the back way. Which probably made it worse because then there was less lubrication. I didn’t want it to happen, but he was already inside before I could say no. I did say no, and I did make it stop.

The hardest part for me is that I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I want. I know I don’t want to get pregnant which is why I didn’t have sex with him. Honestly, that was probably the MAIN reason I didn’t have sex with him. That oh and the fact that, I don’t know him, nor love him, nor is he my husband, nor did I want to. So I fought harder to make sure that didn’t happen.

I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I wanted to twice, but I couldn’t. Because there was nothing to cry about. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t mad. I’m just confused. And now I’m hurt and bleeding.

My period isn’t supposed to start until next week. I woke up this morning bleeding. No other period systems, like chronic cramps, and fatigue. None of that. Just bleeding. At first, I thought it was spotting. And now it’s pretty consistent. I don’t know what to do. I guess it’s probably just my period. Which is good because that means I’m not pregnant. So I think I might just have to wait it out.

I’m sorry this is so detailed. But, I don’t have anyone else that I can talk to. When I get back home, (currently across the country) I’ll set up an appointment to meet a new psychologist for the third time in the life and go from there.

Date of delflowerment: April 26th, 2017



I keep finding myself in situations that I don’t want to be in or situations that I am just not ready for. But, why am I not ready for these situations? What’s preventing me from enjoying myself and allowing myself to be touched? What’s going on? FUCK if I know.

I was told not to go back to the room, his room, the room of the guy who pinned me down to the bed for fun because he enjoyed making me uncomfortable. I was told not to go back to his room. I was told, but I did not listen. obviously.

Yesterday, I went back. I told him the second that I walked into the room that nothing was going to happen. I told him that. I continued to tell him that. I said that we are just here as friends and nothing needs to happen right? Just friends.

Again, he pinned me down, but again I told him. Nothing is going to happen. I tried to stand my ground, but it’s hard when someone is trying to take both your bra off and pull your pants down at the same time.

He stopped for a while, claimed he was tired. I told him I was a virgin, and he proceeded to say that he doesn’t mess with virgins. Lucky for me right? Wrong. Well, I don’t know. All I know is that there is more to be done than just sex.

Again, I told him nothing was going to happen and again he pinned me down. I finally let him kiss me, but he began to become too handsy. Keep in mind he is stronger than me, so the more I moved his hand away the more forceful he became when putting it back.

Somehow, my bra and shirt were off. Keep in mind, initially I told him nothing was going to happen. I stopped saying it, but I didn’t stop thinking it. I did however continue to say the words stop & no throughout. I kept trying to push his hands away and push him off of me, but like I said he was stronger. At one point my hands were pinned together and I couldn’t move them to stop him.

Eventually, I gave up trying to push him off, I gave up saying no. I gave up saying that nothing was going to happen because something was already happening. Besides, it was too late right? I just let whatever happen happened.

The problem is this:

I still can’t tell if I wanted it to happen or if I just gave up trying to stop him.

Why did I go back to his room? Why did let him take my clothes off? Why wasn’t I stronger? Why don’t I know what I want? Why couldn’t he take my no for what it was? Why did something have to happen?

But, my biggest drawback and my biggest question: There is a difference between wanting something to happen and letting it happen, right?

Which one did I do?