Let me first start off by saying this letter isn't for you, truly, it's for me. I know I can never make you feel how I feel.
I am 17 years old. I was, a virgin, until you robbed that from me. You are 21. I was at a party, with my friends. I believed I was in a safe space. I had never been drunk before. You came, and you followed me around. You knew I was vulnerable and you knew I was a virgin. You plotted to take advantage of me.
I just wanted to go to sleep. I went upstairs because I was tired. I could barely walk. You went with me. Asked me to 'cuddle'. I was clear that I did not want to sleep with you. I didn't know you.
You didn't even know my name.
You didn't know my hopes and dreams, my favorite color or cereal, you didn't know anything about me except that I was wasted and I was there.
I remember how much it hurt. How disgusting I felt at first. A man I didn't even know was inside me.
I tried to pretend I was into it. I tried to enjoy it. I tried to act like it wasn't a big deal.
And I know it wasn't anything to you.
I tried to ignore it, but when the lights turned on, I hated you.
I have never hated anyone as much I hate you, but my hatred for myself is pretty close.
You don't have to wake up and feel worthless.
You don't have to pretend you're fine.
You don't have to replay it over and over in your head.
You don't want to throw up every few minutes.
I can't eat, I can't sleep, I feel like I can't live.
How am I supposed to tell my mother I was the dumb drunk girl at a party I promised I'd never be? I just graduated high school. I leave for college in the fall. My mother never gave me freedom and the one time she did, this happened.
I fear telling my mother for the fact that she'll be disappointed in herself.
I fear she'll want to press charges.
As much as I want your life to be just as fucked as mine is, I don't and I can't deal with society and how they view me.
I'm not a victim, because I was drunk.
I was probably asking for it, dressed like that, letting you kiss me.
How were you supposed to know that no actually meant no?
Especially since, perhaps at one point, my intoxicated self said yes.
But you weren't intoxicated.
You knew exactly what you were doing.
You know what you don't know?
What it's like to feel like your body isn't even yours anymore.
What it's like to never want to be touched again.
What it's like to feel like you're alone and falling apart.
What it's like to blame myself over and over.
I just wanted to go to sleep. I didn't want you to take something that I wanted to save for someone I loved.
Now I can't even love myself.
I want you to know that no matter what you think I wanted, I didn't.
At all.
I just want to forget it, but I can't.
I just want to act like it didn't happen, but I can't.
I wake up crying and wanting to scream.
I wake up asking God why me.
You, the person who raped me, didn't just rape me.
You destroyed me and you degraded me.
But it's not permanent.
I will find the strength to persevere.
You may have took my virginity, but you didn't take my resilience.
I hope you rot in hell. Because even if it was just for five minutes, it made an impact on me for the rest of my life.
It's sickening. But I can heal. And I will.
