Happy birthday dear cousin. Today you would’ve been 23. Although we don’t talk about you much anymore. I think of you often. I think of how you would’ve reacted to the life that I now live. You were so kind and I truly miss your kindness. You were also so protective and never failed to stand up for me. You had your whole life ahead of you, yet it was your end.
I wonder what your life looks like now. Are you able to pursue your passions in heaven? Do you still play the piano every day and go for long runs? Are you aware of the things that happen here on earth? I hope that you would be proud of me.
I hope to see you again one day. I miss that kindness that people rarely show.
I do not remember so well that close call. Yet it was so very close it reminds me of the other. I remember bits and pieces and they come unwarranted. Still, the close call apologized and for that I am grateful.
Thus, I should have seen it coming. The signs were much different. The other was so passive. It was a true deception. I was led to believe that they had it all together. So very naive at only sixteen.
But the close call was aggressive from the start. Verbally and physically. I should have learned my lesson. I held a momentary scar.
Maybe surrounding me was a predisposition. My sheltered life was able to postpone the inevitable. But it had to happen. The other happened because the predisposition has always followed me. This would explain the irrational anxiety and fearful nature that consists. That should have made me more careful.
I escaped the close call untouched. The other left me stripped of all my treasures. I remember wishing I could forget what happened with the close call. Now that I hardly remember, I should have been grateful. In order to forget must I go through something worse? Perhaps a beating? I’d rather have neither. So I’ll take a moment to find myself feeling grateful. It could have been far worse. Yet the scars burn just as bad.
I think that the deception bothers me the most because by the time I could see it coming I was too far gone. My mind was in a fog of optimistic dreams. Because I thought since I wanted it a certain way then it would simply be. But I cannot make anything happen and I can clearly see that now.
So now I feel confused. Why me? Why did I hold that predisposition because it goes against everything I’ve ever believed.
I find myself wondering who you will blame for your struggles. I know for certain everyone struggles, but there’s always someone being blamed.
Will you blame your mother for not choosing with wisdom? Will you grow to resent her for not staying home to raise you? Will you feel lonely when she is not there on field trips? Will you wish to spend more time with her…instead of the others who have the time that she does not? Will you wonder why she’s always busy? Will you feel confused when your friends at school and church talk about their families?
Maybe you will blame your father for only showing up when it is convenient. Perhaps you’ll feel sorrow when you see others with their fathers. Will you come to your mother one day with tears running down your cheeks, asking why your parents are not together? Will it be hard for you to accept love from a man that is not your blood, yet chooses to love you as so?
Or will you understand? Maybe you will understand that your mother is working hard to make your future better. And that she hides her tears at night when you sleep peacefully. Perchance your grandfather will fill that void. What if it is pride that fills your heart when you think of all the sacrifices that were made for you.
Your mother prays that you may grow to love the Lord with all your heart and all your mind and all your soul. Because she knows that regardless of who you may place the blame on you can still find peace through His unconditional love. May you grow to be courageous, gentle, patient, brave, determined, passionate, and contempt.
Your mother worries that her past mistakes may ruin your virtue. Yet she still begs that the spirit of the Lord finds you and never leaves your side.
I feel myself drowning. I want to catch myself before it’s too late. Lord have mercy on my soul. Give me the strength to heal. Don’t let me lose my sanity. I need a friend. The loneliness has got me bound. I can’t live like this once again. I have to untangle myself. I have another soul relying on me not to screw up the person that they will become. I can’t mess up. Please stop the bleeding in my heart. Make the strangers stop the intensifying of the stream of blood. They don’t know me yet I still think about our encounters long after I have been eaten by the subconscious. Send help.
What were you thinking? I know you weren’t deaf. Tell me, how long were you planning this? How long did it take you to convince yourself that this needed to be done? Or was it just in the moment? I should have ran when you kissed me. I could have ran far far away from you. What could I have said to make you change your mind? I spoke:
-“I don’t wan’t to have sex.”
-“You’re hurting me.”
Why couldn’t you hear me? I’ve been trying to figure out my triggers to this memory. What will it take to erase the nightmares? Although, they don’t happen at night. I guess that would make it easier. These are more like “daymares”. When I see another man, I find myself being reminded of what you did to me. Why is that? I don’t even know these men and I hurt with bitter pain every time we share a glance. Why did you let it get that far? Do you even think about what you did to me? Probably not. Why were you not ashamed after everything was done? You! You are a master manipulator. Every time I see you I feel nothing but repulsion. So I am reminded of the stages of grief:
Why did #1 last so long? Is it even normal to do what I did? What is wrong with me? I don’t feel like any better of a person than you because I stayed. Damn you! I wish I could really tell you all of these things. But I know the time spent doing so would be useless. Here’s a quote to help me speak: “The part of me that wanted sex to be a meaningful experience had ‘repurposed’ my rape into an act of love” (Tucker Reed). I think that I find this to be true for me. I am still trying to come to terms with this because I feel so foolish. So what now? How am I supposed to mourn? You continued to force me until I was about to pop out a baby. Foolish boy. F**k you!
The Girl You Raped