It's June now. Only three more months until I'm out of this house. It's- unreal.

He hasn't touched me in the last two months. It's a huge relief - but him not doing anything makes me feel like maybe he never did, maybe I was hallucinating, or dreaming- but I remember. I remember waking up in terror, I remember his hands on me when he hugged me. I remember it. Just because he doesn't do it now, doesn't mean it never happened.

But it would be easier, if I was the insane one. If it was just my head making things up, if I was the cruel, twisted one, the bad person who came up with such horrendous memories. Because how can it be this person you loved for all your life? How can they hurt you like this, for all it seems without remorse?
I don't understand. I suppose I never will. I can not stop trying to look for reasons, but I think I will not find any, no matter how long I look.

I just want to pause my life. It feels like my emotions, everything got stuck somewhere in April, when I acknowledged it. But life keeps going, my classes keep going, and if I think too long about it, it make me want to break down and cry.
This was supposed to be my summer. The end of my bachelor's degree. I was supposed to worry about exams, and papers, and writing a bachelor's thesis. Now I have to worry about classes I can't take, and teachers who are trying to help but are stuck in red tape of university rules; about panic attacks and the urge to self-harm again (after so many years of not doing that); about gaining weight because everything is too much and I stress-eat.

This was suposed to be a stressful, but in the end, happy semester. I wonder where my promised happiness went.