(the title is actually a title, not an invitation lmao. also trigger warning b/c this is about csa)
:;
i'm trying to find solace in the fact that i haven't been touched,
that violent hands did not caress me like they did others.
i'm hurting the same hurt but from the other side,
the side that did ask for it,
the side that had a choice.
it doesn't make it right,
but it makes it a little harder to be wrong.
it make it feel so false to call myself a victim
when at most i'm one of circumstance,
the circumstance of living in the digital age,
where anything can happen behind a glowing screen
as long as you're password protected
and liberal with the delete button.
the most there is to form a case of pity
is that it is never-ending in a sense.
it's true for anyone that no matter the specifics,
it is likely to always play on in the minds of all that have faced it in some form.
but the act does eventually stop and living with the aftermath begins,
which is admittedly only less difficult by a small margin.
but this is different,
because as history has proven
nothing online is truly gone forever.
all the photos,
how many do you reckon there were anyway?
100? 150?
must be if there was one per man,
but the amount is trivial,
even just one out in the world forever is enough to send bile up the throat.
to know that for the rest of your life,
no matter what you're doing,
there is the large chance that a total stranger is looking at you as a child
doing horrendous things for the sake of a coward
who hides behind chat bubbles and default avatars.
the numbers are just there to increase that likelihood.
i'm not sure how to live on while being aware of that,
even though i do everyday.
sometimes i'll be doing something so mundane
like washing the dishes
and then have the realization again for the 3rd time that month
and wish for nothing more than to entirely dissolve my existence.
and isn't it even more disgusting
that i've somehow been warped into blaming myself for that,
instead of those who coaxed those photos out of me in the first place,
who shared them around in their filthy circles,
who put it in my mind that it was something to be proud of?
in a way that almost feels like the biggest crime here,
that i let people with zero authority on the matter
make me wish that it had been worse
in a sad attempt for their diagnosis of validity
that wouldn't even be able to reverse what happened to me anyway.
so what is there for one to do other than hope and pray
that my willing participation wasn't taken as encouragement,
and they haven't since upped the ante for all the fellow attention seekers
blind to the concept of being used
and hell bent on receiving anything remotely resembling love?
well,
there isn't anything else,
so we do just that,
hope and pray.
it doesn't make it a whole lot better,
and it definitely doesn't make it easier,
but in the end
it's all a victim robbed of justice can do.
