and everyone just expects me to be okay because so much time has passed, but it feels like yesterday. I can feel everything, every touch, every single bit of pain. I can feel the fear pulsing through my veins. The feeling never goes away, the trust never comes back, my love never comes back to life. I died that day, not physically, but mentally. I gave up that day the second that I realized that I had no control over what was about to happen to me. They call it, "traumatic," I call it deadly, because a part of me died that day. My heart died that day, my trust died, my security died, my feeling died that day. All that is left is numb. For the longest time I couldn't be intimate in any way shape or form, but now it's all I crave. It's like a do-over. It's like he loved me. It's like I'm not broken. It's like I don't want to die. Just as long as I'm chasing something. Lust I guess it is.
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Thoughts From A Victim
PoetryA collection of poems from a girl really going through it.