When my rapist sent me a friend request I almost accepted it; thought it was someone else when I felt my blood freeze. My hands start to shake as I enter his profile clicking back to when he must have joined about a year before he met me; he looked so young. He's smiling next to a celebrity. Next, he's standing on top of a monument; next, he's standing with his friends laughing. 59 mutual friends. 59 people to whom he could have boasted of his conquest to. 59 people who see me and think that I willingly got down on my knees for him.
They don't know how terrified I was. That when I said "no" he heard "fuck my mouth"; that when I tried to push him away he thought I wanted him to pull my hair more.
So by the time he shoved his cock in my mouth, no that's too vile, by the time he shoved his poison laced roses down my throat, I had already given up. I sat there in the bathroom stall with my watery eyes and threw up after he left. The next time, it was someone else, someone I thought could be trusted; my mistake. Manipulation fucks with your brain, makes it paranoid. How can you trust someone when every time you have you've been left in the dust with the taste of your own blood in your mouth; paralyzed burying yourself deeper and deeper but the monsters only seem to be getting darker and darker. So from the next time, you say yes. 'Yes' because atleast now I can pretend you wouldn't have done it if I had told you not to, 'yes' because I don't have to be handled like a rabid dog being put down, 'yes' because that's all I've ever known.
Everything looks the same. Everything tastes the same. Everything feels the same. Everything is nothing. I am nothing. I'm the rite of passage that everybody passes; I'm the cheater's whore; I'm the forgotten and the forgiving. I'm pretty and insecure.
I'm nothing and everything.
