Jump to content
New registrants - please do NOT register using your real name (or anything resembling such) - your privacy is important to us and real-name registrations will be deleted. Please re-register with an anonymous display name. ×
If you are having any trouble connecting or need assistance, email us at: aftersilence.moderators@gmail.com! ×
  • entries
    9
  • comments
    9
  • views
    842

Haze_D

349 views

There are things I needed to believe.
It was the only way to survive.
I bartered a piece of myself with the promise that I would get through it.
Less whole, less me, but at least it wouldn’t hurt as much.

I wanted this. It’s what you told me when tears streamed down my burning cheeks after you kissed me.
It’s what I told myself when your hands traveled up the inside of my thigh in your classroom.
It’s what I held onto when you asked if I wanted to come inside your house.
I knew what I was doing.

You loved me.
I begged you to tell me that when you were pushing inside of me.
You echoed the words, but the remaining sliver of my sensible soul knew it was empty.
I just needed to hear it. It had to be a love story. Because if it wasn’t, then I was truly ruined.

They were nothing but pretty lies.
Death dressed in daisies.
Still, they were my life raft.
The only thing I could cling onto in the terrifying abysmal ocean I was drowning in.
No horizon in sight.

What if I want more than survival?
I want to shed the shame, the guilt, the lies, but it’s woven into every fabric of my being. It's who I am now.
I wish it was a love story, I just don’t believe that anymore.

Edited by Haze_D

5 Comments


Recommended Comments

There are many types of force, and force is violence.  Words can be violent, and looks, and violence can be psychological, like when someone bigger, older, or in power forces something on someone smaller, younger, or powerless, and they have to find a way to deal with it in their mind so that it does destroy them.

Edited by CyclosaTurbinata
Link to comment

@Haze_D This is so powerful. I love this poem you wrote and also "Memories and Holes." I relate so much to your experience of needing to feel that what was happening to you was a "love story." As you know, from my recently posted story (thank you so much for your kind response!), I had a similar experience as yours when I was thirteen but I stayed with my abuser for a much longer time. I was with him for five years. I feel like your description of the first time is so similar to mine, but my abuser didn't even say he loved me at first. He just acknowledged my having told him I loved him by having sex with me. I don't know if I wanted a physical relationship with him at the time. I feel like I don't know anything these days except that I know I was lonely and confused and searching for love and what happened was not okay. When I look back on myself at that time now I feel full of despair. I started having a panic attack-type feeling recently when discussing it with my sisters and that is partly what brought me to this group. For years I walked around thinking that what happened to me was just a normal part of my life, one I had moved on from. I want to be able to sit with these new feelings, but sometimes--especially after having conversations with my mother--I go back into a state of numbness that also borders on depression. Thank you so much again for responding to my post and sharing a part of your story with me. It helps a lot to talk to other people who were at a similar age when their abuse happened. I struggled with the term "rape" for so many years, and I felt for years that my story was too complicated for a MeToo post. I would like to talk more sometime if you ever want to have a personal message-chat. (I don't know how that works yet on this site and it's fine if you don't feel up to it). I also don't know how the "sitting with you" concept works on this site (emoji?) but it sounds really cool. 😀

Hope you're having a good day! 

All best,

Dahlia29

Link to comment

Thank you @Dahlia29 for your comment. All of what you’re saying is soooooo relatable. When I put myself in the shoes of my younger self, I see that I just really wanted someone to care for me (which all children want). Our abusers exploited that and knew that and knew what they were doing would ultimately be damaging for us. I try to remind myself of that because it’s easy for my head to think that I was the one initiating it and to blame. I’m proud of you for listening to your reactions and what your body is telling you now about what you went through. It’s not easy and takes a lot of courage to confront this.  I PM’d you 😊

Link to comment

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
×
×
  • Create New...