𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄𝐃 | 𝟏𝟖+

forty-seven; rebound

A U R O R A

"Everything is grey, his hair, his smoke, his dreams, and now he's so devoid of color, he don't know what it means."

. . .

I feel so pathetic for doing this. I should be able to just let this go.

But, mom told me that no matter what happens, if it's something without consent, it can affect you just as badly as anything else. No matter what happened.

So that's why I'm doing this.

I appreciate her efforts to make me feel better.

Some would say to get over it already, and that's my aim. I went out today. I went to see Chad and didn't feel anything when he hugged me. I didn't feel any different or revolted from his touch.

I felt comfortable.

Meditation has been helping, I've been reading and just taking care of myself. Taking care of my body feels good.

It means that I'm treating it as it should be treated. With gentleness and love. I have been working out more often, and it makes me feel good.

That I'm keeping my body healthy and the way I like it.

Though, I still feel insecure sometimes.

I used to thrive when men would throw me glances and smile at me, or compliment me. Not the creeps, though.

But now, I feel like they only like what their eyes see, and don't care to even look any deeper.

Am I worth it? Am I funny enough? Or am I just a mean bitch that deserved what happened to her?

But I quickly stuff those thoughts away and realize that I don't need anyone's approval. But the thoughts get intrusive sometimes and I can't help myself.

I've been eating a bit more; my appetite has returned and I went shopping with Laure the other day.

And I'm able to pleasure myself again. I got off last night, and it felt good. Really good. Though, I prefer not to talk about the man I was thinking about.

Anyway, I'm...

"Hey sis," I hear, making me look up from my journal. I see Nicholas standing in the doorway, looking at me.

"Hey," I grin and sit up, closing the notebook and putting it aside. Mom told me that it might help, and I've been using it for the past few days, just writing down what I did that day or what I'm feeling in that moment.

It has helped. A lot.

"How are you?" he asks and walks into the room, taking a seat on my bed beside me. "I'm good," I answer honestly.

"You know, if you gave me the name of that guy, I'd beat him up," he says and wraps an arm around me.

I grin and hug him back, not getting a lot of moments like these with Nicholas. He's away a lot, going out with friends or girls.

And the only woman he'll allow to smooch or kiss him, basically smother him with love, is mom. Even though he'll never admit that.

"You're two years younger than him," I remark. He rolls his eyes. "Doesn't mean shit. I'm sure I could still kick his ass," he states confidently. I snort.

"Sure you can."

"Don't insult me like that," he retorts and playfully pinches my nose. "Sorry," I smile, the sarcasm dripping off my voice.