For a bit over a month now, I have pretended to be okay. I am not. I want to break down and not just cry, I want to sob. I want to grieve for a part of me that will never be again. You know, that part that was stolen from me 6 years ago.
It has amplified itself because the perpetrator of that crime which I did not report and I should have, died. A bit over one month ago. He is gone. He requested to see me the week he died. I hesitated for a couple days, but finally relented. It was late in the afternoon and into the early evening, the visit was nice, and I pretended the scars I have were not there.
This man who did this to me, my former special friend that I so truly cared for at one time, said he cared for me… that he loved me… that day. How can you tell the victim of your perverted sexual aggressions you love them? How can you become so confused in your perception of reality that you mistake sexual dominance and control over a medicated man for love?
Anyway, I paid my visit, glad I did. I have zero guilt and behaved most appropriately. But the son-of-a-bitch wins again because he died before the sun came up the next day. I became the last person he had requested to see out of his hundreds of "best friends". Why could he not have just passed away and let someone inform me at a later time?
Now I am left to wonder for the rest of my days if he in fact truly cared about me…or was this just a final play to regain control of my emotions because it was me who had finally said, "no, I am busy today, I have had enough"… meaning I ended the friendship.
But all that matters for certain is that I will never forget that this man is the man who knelt before me on the edge of the bed while I was on pain meds and anesthesia, and he intentionally entered my body. I could not resist. I could not.
And the irrational shame of that dominance and oral rape still at times leaves me incapacitated. This is day five of leaving house only to go work a few hours and then I come home and hide. I haven't done this for a very long while. I just hurt inside and can't figure out exactly how to ease the pain or to block out the tears that well up.
The false fear that I had all these years is replaced with an odd sadness and grief. Had to get it out there. Thanks for reading.
For now we see through a glass, darkly.