Survival

Part 3

I have never even been able to say your name.

When someone asked me your name, I was just silent.

I did not want even you to suffer. I have never wanted to.

When I reported him, I have been asked to say his name. I stayed in silent. I did not want people to know. A friend of mine said it. I did not even say it to her. She has guessed it, she knew his, she knew he would have hurt me.

Everyone was right.

When someone asked me, who hurt me that much, I was silent. I did not talk. But when someone said his name, I was silent as well. My friends always told me I am too nice.

But they also know that I am broken inside. I still cry for that same person that made my heart beat for months. I am still scared when I see him in the corridors. I still cannot look at him. I still cannot believe what he did.

Ehi, you, yeah you that break my heart, do you remember the message in Italian you sent me? Who would make so much effort to write a message in another language for a person you do not even care about? I still wonder if that message had at least half the value for you it had for me.

I cannot believe I was so stupid. No, stop. It is not my fault. Society makes me think it is so, but I know it is not my fault. But, at the end, I am the only one that is paying for that. He does not even look at me. He probably does not even remember me. Or maybe he does. But, in each case, he does not have a good memory of me.

I may be the little girl that reported him for a stupid picture. But it was not a stupid picture. It has never been so.