Don't ask me what I was wearing.
Or what I was doing.
Or who I was with or where I was or how I was or why I was.. raped.
I was raped.
By another person.
Not by my short skirt or my low-cut top or my tequila or my lack of pepper spray or the fact that I live all the way across town on my own freedom.
I was raped by another person.
Another person raped me.
Another person... with a heart, a soul... a mind, a life, just like them.
They stripped away everything that I had and it wasn't because I was stripped down.
They violated me sexually and it wasn't because I was free with my sexuality.
They grabbed me by the heartbeat and said, "You're not human."
And it wasn't because I acted like one.
It was because they chose to.
It was because you said it was okay.
It was because you asked me what I was wearing.
