It's July.
It's fucking July again.
My birthday.
His.
The same date.
I could tell you I'm doing fine, but that would be a lie.
I only wish I could collect a dollar for every time someone says, "don't think of it as HIS birthday. Think of it as yours."
I'd have a moderate amount of money.
If only it were so easy to "just forget."
July is hard.
Hell, June 16th is hard, because it's a month til our birthdays.
It's not so much that I have to think, "oh, he's celebrating on this day too."
No.
It's because for an entire month before my birthday I am wondering what he is doing. What kind of plans is he making?
He knows.
He remembers that we share the same birthday.
Is he thinking of me too?
Are we thinking of each other?
That's the worst part.
Knowing that we think of each other for completely different reasons.
I think of him as the destroyer of a world.
And in my eyes he sees me as just another conquest gone wrong. A night of bad sex.
I'm neither of those things.
And yet...
I'm the one who suffers alone, begging herself to put down the blade.
YOU ARE READING
Taking back the Moon
Short StoryA description serves no purpose but to lure readers in. So why should you read? Well, I attempt to make sense of rape in the form of prose, flash back, and poetry. It is what it is.
