No, I Don't Want to Have Sex With You.

Subject: No, I Don't Want to Have Sex With You.
From: A girl you could have listened to
Date: 22 Nov 2017

No, I don’t want to have sex with you.
You don’t like that answer? That’s okay. Hold me down by my hair. Cover my mouth. Keep me in place. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll stop crying. I won’t fight back. Silly me, I thought the repeated “no” and “stop” would count. It doesn’t matter to you? That’s fine, I’ll freeze and take it. I wouldn’t want to make a fuss and wake my friend. I’ll wait for you to finish.
Don’t mind me, I’m just running to the bathroom because I need to vomit from the terror, disgust, and confusion building up. I’ll be out in a minute, I promise. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so upset with you. You’re right, I could have gotten up. You’re right, I could’ve yelled for help if I didn’t like it. You’re right, I guess I was flirting too much and since I thought you were cute, that must make it okay.
The next day, you tell me you were high that night and that you don’t remember anything. That seems strange to me because you can recall that I said no. You just can’t recall the events when you are trying to explain them to my best friend, your girlfriend.
Speaking of her, how is she? It must be nice that she decided to stay with you. No, her and I don’t speak anymore. She took your side, remember? You’re right. It is my fault.
    I'm sure you would love to hear that. A weak girl admitting to being at fault for her sexual assault. You took advantage of me. You raped me. You can call it “sex” all you want, but the funny thing about the word “sex” is that it makes it sound consensual. To this day I still shake my head at myself for ever thinking that I was attracted to you. The blame and confusion I still feel two years later weighs so heavy on me, the fear and hate I feel for my “friend”, for you, but mostly myself.
    Since you took away a part of me, I want you to hear the damage you have caused and got to walk away from. Here is the reality you forced upon me to live when you chose to be a rapist on October 17th, 2015.
Years of therapy do not erase the feeling of you in and on my skin, no matter how many times I said “stop”, “no”, or “don’t”. I would think a therapist could help put away all of those disruptive feelings into a dark corner of my mind, somewhere I cannot feel or see them when I close my eyes. They cannot.
One of the worst parts is not even being forced into having sex with you, it is the betrayal from my friends who do not take my side and blame me. My friend who was dating you told me that if I was really raped then I would have screamed for help, she completely blew past the fact that I just froze and could not process what to do after already saying “no”.
I was trapped in a cycle of blame that felt as though it would never end. It was like my mind was raping me with the intrusive memories all over again.
My mental health deteriorated. I was put on several different anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, but due to the fact that addiction runs in my family I decided to stop most of my medications. I have already had PTSD since I was three years old, and it was only heightened, thanks to you no less. I continued therapy, and although it helped, there were and still are certain triggers lingering around me.
I cannot listen to the last songs I had heard before and after you raped me, there was an instance at my workplace where one of the songs started playing over the speakers, so naturally I had a meltdown and had to have my mother call my manager to say there was a “family emergency” that I needed to leave for. In reality, this “family emergency” was just me experiencing flashbacks and I could not bring myself to continue working properly. I had to go home and shut myself in my room, crawl into bed and take one of my Xanax medications in order to calm myself enough to fall asleep. I could not wear the sweatshirt you raped me in that night and had to end up donating it to Goodwill just to get it out of my sight. It was a shame because of how much I liked it, but seeing and/or touching it gave me a grave feeling of discomfort. Something as trivial as a sweatshirt had gained its own horrendous identity. When I saw that one article of clothing, I saw your face. I am more afraid of unfamiliar people and areas, so I constantly have to be able to see who is around me and start to panic if someone is walking closely behind, especially men. My hypervigilance has escalated and I often find myself turning around frequently when walking to make sure no one is there or at least directly behind me.
I have to make sure you aren’t near me. It has been tiring having this fear manifest itself subconsciously. I feel out of place and like my body is not my own. Even though two years have passed since I have seen you, I am constantly on the lookout for you. I have never felt a fear as strong as the one I have of you. I don’t mean that as a compliment. You aren’t some macho, terrifying man. You are a coward.
You got to walk away without a mark, but you are a stain on my life, my mind and my body as a whole.
Thank you for violating me and making me afraid of my surroundings. Thank you for the vivid flashbacks and nightmares. Thank you for aiding in my suicide attempts. Thank you for being a constant fear in the back of my mind.
Over time I decided that I was not a “victim” of anything. I survived. I am a survivor. Even if you set me back in life, you can't control me. Victimizing myself is what made me feel weak. I allowed myself to live under the thoughts of “these horrible things were done to me and now I will let it control my life”. It was that mindset that made me feel so broken. Initial victimization is a reality every survivor goes through I believe, along with denial, confusion, and anger. But proceeding through life for two years with that mindset was detrimental to my mental health. Once I had allowed time to heal me little by little, and recognized that I will never “get over it” the way I was obsessed with thinking that I would, I could see that my assault could not define me unless I let it. I can only acknowledge it, recognize and heal from it, so I can use these experiences to empower my strengths.
Is this what you want? Validation that you are not a rapist, that I “wanted it”? I will not be your victim. I get to survive and keep surviving. I will never feel weak because of you ever again. My life cannot revolve around an assault. You will never outlive or be better than the violating, skin-crawling waste of space that you chose to be.
There is your truth and your reality.

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