Where The Grass Grows

Dear Diary

Dear diary:
Have you ever been torn apart seam by seam
By the hands of a monster
Have you ever had your insides turned to outsides
Have you ever felt shame
Have you ever felt guilt
Like you deserved to be touched by those hands
The monsters hands
Have you ever been broken?

Dear diary:
I had to talk to them again
Tell them my story
I've said it over and over again
It rolls off my tongue as easily as everything else does
Like what's your favorite color
And what's for dinner
But this is not simple
I sit with them in a cold room
Isolated from everyone else
As they ask what happened to me
What did the monster take from you
They asked
Everything
It was the only thing I could say back

Dear diary:
They closed my case today
They said there wasn't enough evidence
Go figure
I'm not surprised
I expected nothing less
But I saw the pain behind their eyes
As they told me
I could see they felt bad
I'm only 12
They keep saying that
Like my age makes this any worse
That it already is
I'm only 12
But I was 3 when this all started

Dear Diary:
Today I had mt first therapy appointment
Or I could be quiet too
Whatever made me comfortable
Is what we'd do
I didn't talk about the monster
Instead, we played a board game
The game of life
There are no monsters in the game of life
It seems much more optimistic than reality
I suppose that's why they call it a game
Because it has no monsters
I liked my therapist though
She seemed nice
Her smile was gentle
And she didn't look at me any differently

Dear diary:
People look at you much differently
When you've been touched by the hands of a monster
I don't blame them
I suppose I'm gross
I talk about this in therapy
But I don't go into much detail
I don't talk about the monster
He scares me

Dear diary:
It is quiet as I write to you
I like to write when it is quiet
I think clearer when it's quiet
The monster used to lurk in the quiet
Not a moment were you safe from him
He would lurk in the quiet
And then he'd suck away the remainder of the silence
Set flames to the peace that once effortlessly lived in me
I do not like when it is quiet
Quiet is good for writing
But not for the mind and soul
But not for the heart
But not for me

Dear diary:
Today a pencil broke in class
I heard it snap
And in an instant, I was flinching
My mind screamed get away and the monster's come back
Only I couldn't run
Because I was sat at my desk in the middle of class
And the monster hasn't come back
It was just a pencil
I know I should talk about this
But it's not like talking about it will make the sleep come back
I don't sleep most nights
When I do, I have nightmares

Dear diary:
Today,
My friend tried to hug me
On instinct I pulled away
My head screamed not this time and you can't give everything away again
But of course, I took a second
And then I leaned in and hugged her back
She was not going to take anything from me
She is not a monster
But simply my friend
And my friends can hug me
I know I should talk about this
But the words never come to mind
And I don't know how I'm supposed to

Dear diary:
I want to talk about him
But he scares me
He told me he'd kill me if I ever did
I want to talk about him
I want to talk about the monster

Dear diary:
I did it
I said his name for the first time in therapy
I said he was mean
I didn't go into much detail
But I said his name
That's progress
My therapist said I did great
So that's something

Dear diary:
I stopped going to therapy
Mom says we can't afford it anymore
And she didn't seem to push me enough
We never talked
We just played games
And mom wants to get to the root of the problems
She wants me to talk about him
Talk about the monster
But I don't want to
I want to pretend like nothing happened at all

Dear diary:
I want to be normal
Is that too much to ask for
Why did the monster choose me
Did I do something wrong

Dear diary;
I haven't been to therapy in years
I haven't thought about him either
But I talk about him a lot
With friends at school
And maybe it's too much to divulge at the swings
Maybe I need a therapist again

Dear diary:
Mom put me back in therapy
This time I talked
I talked a lot
About everything
I talked about the monster
I said his name again
I repeated the story for the first time in years
This time the story rolled off my tongue gently
With fear
It did not resurface easily

Dear diary:
I talk about him every week now
My therapist told me not to call him a monster
Because that means he's more powerful than me
She says he isn't
Apparently, I am much stronger than him
She says to call him or what he is
Do not shy away from the truth
She said
He's not a monster
He's a rapist

Dear diary:
I was raped
I was raped for eight years

Dear diary:
What am I supposed to do with this?
How do I make it go away?

-From a girl who just wants to heal