i guess i'll just lie here,
and pretend i don't have feelings.
and pretend i don't have feelings.
i guess i'll just lie here,
and pretend like i have time for STD testing.
and pretend like i have time for STD testing.
i guess i'll just lie here,
like i owe you this.
like i owe you this.
i guess i'll just lie here,
like we didn't agree otherwise.
like we didn't agree otherwise.
i guess i'll just lie here,
and wait for this to be over.
and wait for this to be over.
i guess i'll just lie here,
as i survive another thing no one is going to believe.
as i survive another thing no one is going to believe.
i guess i'll just lie here,
in my own bed, now a forever fucked up place.
in my own bed, now a forever fucked up place.
oh shit, is this why you had me smoke?
The Context:
I struggled intensely with what to call this experience in the months after it.
Specifically, I worried that if I used certain words that then I would be playing into carceral systems I don't believe in. What I wanted more than anything else was to never see this person again and just to have this experience go away. I wanted to return to my life and keep pushing on. This person was supposed to access 2 hours of my life, and yet the PTSD they somehow managed to inflict on my body through this experience ended up occupying my life for years. It remains my sincere hope that I never have to see this person again.
another trust crisis #4 by Lyra McMahon