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, so is this why you had me smoke?
The Context:
I struggled intensely with what to call this experience in the months after it.
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 forward. This person was supposed to access two hours of my life, yet the PTSD he 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.
It doesn’t matter how long he was inside me, or what I can or cannot remember—he penetrated me after agreeing not to, and he got me high beforehand. That part I remember clearly. That is rape and sexual assault. I said no again after that, and though my memory is fragmented from that point on (something that is common with trauma especially when drugs are involved), I have vivid, traumatizing memories of him on top of me when I didn't want him to be and when I just wanted the whole encounter to be over.
To the Person This Is About:
I do not believe in carceral approaches to dealing with sexual violence, and my hope for this person would be behavior change so that this does not happen to anyone else.
another trust crisis #4 by Lyra McMahon