I met that assailant five years ago, today.
Internet connections say little about deviant ways. I only know the sadistic things he’d say to me, while he forced me down, bleeding; telling me to say I loved him.
In that apartment of discardment and disregardment, the stranger of violence, sickness and anger; and a child trying not to be bitter, bleeding between virgin thighs. Not from his penetration, but of her womanly cycle.
She came with two intentions; her first stop, a film festival. She came to meet new friends, she only meant a night with out regrets and loose ends of insanity. She only wished to be innocently entertained; not emotionally rearranged by a deranged stronger stranger.
She did want the later weather to keep her there; she didn’t want to seem overly careful. She didn’t want him to be inside of her.
Why did he ask her to lie to him, when she could only cry to him to “Stop!” Why did he mistake her curiosity for infatuation? Alcohol, a mental obstruction for erectile distraction?
Her strength only a fraction of his, a safe distance missed by watery miles. Her smiles are long gone. Her night began at this innocent film fest with other aquaintences; those artsy types, a long and rainy ride to meet a director for his debut. Not rude at all to his young admirer.
A wine reception was only a lesson in show business and politics.
Next comes that sick twist of cinematic proportions that corners this sad story of lost glory and innocence. She leaves the film fest to meet those she doesn’t know; the water flooding the highway floats her toward disaster.
Some one must defend her! Try and rebuild her sense of self worth, but she’s left feeling more worthless than ever before. A trusting girl, now she’s only a mess on this emotional train wreck.
It takes more then seconds to think of the lessons she has learned from this tragedy. I know it’s messed up, because it happened to me. Now self esteem seems so hard to catch.
Men leave me cautious and sick when I think of lost intentions and sad revelations. Not all men are the same, but the bad name is branded by a night that broke me. Not at all a joke to me, just a sad story of lost virginity that needed to be told.
I will choose to be bolder, though my heart grows colder than it would have been, had my innocence been left to rest a while longer. I needed to be stronger than I was that night. What was once made wrong, I need to right for myself. Search for help. Pay these dues, get past the hurt of being used, sexually abused.
Move forward to help some one else, before the memory fades. I know no matter how many days pass, I won’t relax because there is a mission to share. You girls, beware; some guys are beasts out there. Some times you can control your fate before it’s too late to say those words.
Stand up like a woman, though you feel like a girl. You show this world that you can overcome; beyond grey skies, look toward the sun. Innocence is lost everyday. That doesn’t make it okay or right, but it’s no reason to want to die. It’s a reason to grow; be bold, live to grow older. To be the shoulder to some one younger.
It’s a lesson born of a sick sad situation; building aggression, fused confusion and broken illusions of grandeur. This is the stuff soap operas are made of- the complete opposite of love. It’s sick, it’s bad, but it’s something some of us have had to endure. It is the merger of physical violence, sexual deviance, and disgusting circumstances rolled into a complete disregard for a woman’s voice crying out “NO!”
It’s the emotional blow of a lifetime; the intimate mark on a personal timeline. The invasion of a jail-able crime, but a sentence that doesn’t serve enough time. Something I didn’t report, a personal decision of mine. Something upon which Karma I tend to rely on.
So I have gone five years, not so much fearing for myself sexually, as much as I started hating male humanity. Not the lest life to lead in a hetero-relationship. I haven’t figured out yet, some I am suppose to live in forgiveness of the situation. To really let it go, and begin again.
I take it with me everyday… it’s a lot of hidden pain and twisted thinking. Enough to constitute drugs and reckless drinking; which is what got me moving forward into helping myself and trying to help some one else… yet, I still haven’t learned to love.
I’ve got to take these lessons, there is something to be gained from the most painful of days. A bit of enlightenment that never fades; a diamond of knowledge from the wise old sage. A source of healing from the rock of ages. Another one of those challenging steps in the phases of womanhood. A woman, where a girl stood.
Should you ever be this woman’s lover; LOVE HER! Cherish her. Covet the love you have for her. Sing Songs of Solomon to her. She is a beautiful disaster and at times a walking contradiction. She suffers the lost virgin affliction. She NEEDS love to be her addiction.
She will fight it. She will fight you. I know all of this, I do it too. She will cry, she will weep, she will stay up all night and make you lose sleep. She will mourn, she will come to terms, only to wake in the morning and burn again with anger. Some times she will seem like a stranger. The faces of hurt sometimes can not hide within her.
She will want you to hate her, because she hates herself for a situation she couldn’t help. To her control is something she prides in herself, it’s at the top of some list next to personal health.
Just love her. Learn her. Remind her of her worth. Let each new day, really mean “re-birth”. The pain is sharp as it internally hurts. Love and time can heal all wounds. It’s just a tough job convincing her she is worthy at all. Not a small task for the weak of heart, the faintly in love. You WILL want to give up! Yeah, and some times it really sucks… but once she “gets it”, it will be eternal love.
So please, curb your tendency to criticize, look deeply into her eyes and ask her to vocalize her worries, her deep set fears. Tell her, tears are okay.
And if you are on the other end, quit defending your pride! Don’t lie and say “nothing is wrong.” Admit that you are insecure, full of fear, anger and resentment. Let him know about those losses and so much more. Tell him this unlocks the door to the dark stuff that keeps you awake. These are the feelings that make you fake your security. It’s okay to express the pain of how you use to be, and how you can seem to change or get it back.
Hold her hand as you listen. Never think her deranged. Listening like this could forever change the course of everything later on.
Girl, learn that when they listen, you know they are for your best intentions. Each time it’s a new lesson of patience. It makes no sense to try him over and over; Rover only returns if you treat him well. He can assist you with finding Heaven, if you face it that you are not in Hell.
Sadness for the past drowns the strongest swimmer in the Sea of Despair. You only fair so well for so long before your air escapes you and you sink so far below, he can’t see you, see him anymore. Just a word from one who knows. She is the repeat offender; all of her destructive decisions fall in the blender of memories.
The times I have made myself scream at self loathing and the desire for Love to leave, for the leave of love I couldn’t understand and still some how still don’t. I believe in Love above all, and perhaps just not for me. Another struggle of trying to believe; I’ll convince you, if you can convince me.
I am waiting for seasons to pass before I drop these leaves of self doubt and hate. All those lovers before, bailed after they realize the bait was tainted by sorrow. I never plan on being sad tomorrow, sometimes it just ends up that way.
If you are sad and you want love, you will find excuses to pursue love and then call it all useless. It draws you back in, time and again. I suppose the fact you can still fall at all, is a positive sign but learning how to stay is like finding a pearl of Truth. Eternal Love is Eternal Youth; the ultimate soother of all those fears and bothered looks. (Trust me I read about it in one of those Self Help books.)
I feel I can help you along a road of self love and self help; but I feel like I can’t help myself. My advice leaves me dry of knowledge for my best intentions. I tend to learn life’s lessons the hard way. I start up the same old mountain, from the same place, and fall at a moment late in the game from failed interactions and emotional distractions. Leading at times to erratic over reactions and faulty verbal transactions.
Maybe someday I’ll try the other side of the hill; it could be the cure for spilling down that rocky road, and getting that bulky load to the top. Showing that rock, whose boss.
Look at the Lover, and wonder where they got their graceful strength and patience. The power of two is more than one. Set this to the reminder at the rise and set of the sun. Love, above all, Love Thyself. The wealth of Love is with you. Covet Love. Love the lesson of a lifetime, the delicious fruit on Time’s vine.