Sunday, March 18, 2012

Why I Hate Being Me Sometimes

So imagine you're finally with a guy that you've been crushing on for a couple of years now. He's probably the best guy you've ever dated. He has the same sense of humor you do. He's smart. He gets along great with your closest friends. You like his family, and he likes yours. He has the hairstyle that you've always admired, and he doesn't want to cut it off anytime soon. He's a musician, so you can have intellectual conversations with him about music and actually learn something, too. He's also your favorite nationality. Everything that's important to you, he has, and then some. When you're with him, you feel like everything's going to be all right. 

You're lying down with him on the couch and you know there's no chance of him trying anything that could make you uncomfortable since he's already pretty much figured out your limits. This is what you've been dying for forever, and you finally have it. You're happy, and you're warm, and you're comfortable. You're also kind of sleepy. You close your eyes, and all of a sudden everything is wrong. It's no longer March of 2012, it's August of 2011. This isn't the guy of your dreams, this is the one who keeps trying to rape you. You bolt up to find that everything's back to normal, but you're still shaky and afraid. Everything you've worked towards for the past seven months has been stripped away again, and you're back in victim mode. And even worse, your boyfriend is hurt and confused, and you can't quite get the words out to tell him what's wrong, so he sits there thinking he did something he shouldn't have. 

This happens time and time again, but you don't know how to stop it or where to turn for help. You just want to find some way to make the memories disappear, or at least leave you alone when they're so inconvenient, but you don't know how. You feel so alone, and so dirty, and so miserable.

And it is awful. 

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