Confessions of a rape victim

Today has been a decent day in terms of emotions. Had much less depressive thoughts, no arguments, and the urges to cut are getting pretty weak once again. Because of my paranoia, I've fashioned myself something that can't exactly get me charged for weapon possession, but isn't completely harmless; and can cause lethal damage if I try hard enough. Its helped substantially to get rid of the fear of attack, and it's given me peace of mind which is helping me get back on my way to being "normal". It's nice feeling even remotely safe.

This post will be going into detail regarding some of what happened that night. Itll be gory or at least cringe-worthy. Just warning you now. EDIT: I didn't realise it'd be so hard to write this. I thought I'd gotten ahold of the emotions regarding this topic. -E. ------------------- It's hard to know how to describe what that night felt like. I guess what best describes it is sandpaper. When he forced his way inside, there was no kind of lubrication, and very little blood to help matters. He was putting a square peg into a round hole, and it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt in my life. It hurt so bad my mind and memory completely blacked out, until the only 'thing' that remained was that burning, unstoppable pain. I couldn't even feel scared, or sad, or fight. I just lay there while he took away my innocence. And the regret I've later come to feel, the realisation that while it happened, I did nothing to stop it, still fills me with...

My mind is such a mess right now. Even when I have a long sleep it's broken and full of nightmares. I can't stop shaking, I can't stop my head from spinning. I'm scared. I've never felt anything like this before, and I worry that I'll never turn back from this breakdown. I was doing so well, I'd gone a whole year without cutting, or getting depressed, and now the cuts and the horrible memories are back again. I've never felt more isolated than I do now. I'm scared. Terrified. And I can't think of anything but the incident. This started with a dream. I have dreams sometimes, that are particularly real and vivid. When I have these dreams, in the space of around a year they will come true. This had happened every single time, and trying to break them has never worked. The terrifying part is last time I had a dream like this, a dream so vivid and realistic it felt like I was there in person, I was being raped again. So now I'm stuck with this...

I'm tired, but I can't sleep. So I made a poem to convey my problems. A restless sleep. I lay still, the damned clock ticking The scars upon my wrist stinging Each tick brings me further into the night As the moon flies it's restless flight Feigning sleep, the air is chill Cold wind blows by the window sill That damn clock is ticking still And no closer am I to sleep A pattern of thought with no true rhythm Frantic memories, no nearer nor distant That god awful pain making clear it's intentions My demons clutching beneath the skin But now it's fuzzy, the unsettled night The ticking growing faint Crazy thoughts lie still and light And finally, I drift away Shadows and fog fill my sleeping brain Visions of the day it was taken away Stifling dark, and his heavy weight The fear and that god awful pain I can never forget.

I had originally planned to do this particular post in multiple sections, but i realised that this blog is for me to vent my current feelings, not to talk about my past. I have split this post into different sections.    -E. About me. I might be different from most people with my difficult past and quiet mannerisms, but that doesn't stop me from having a dream. And as far as dreams go, I'm slowly on my way to accomplishing it. I study public services at college. This means I am able to partake in fitness classes, learn about what I'm passionate about and take those first steps towards achieving my goal. Because, despite everything that has happened to me, my dream is to make the world a better place. And not just that, I dream of becoming an officer. I think that people who commit crimes for no reason other than to pleasure themselves are the lowest of the low; but though they sometimes make me feel like committing pleasure-crimes of my own, I also think that the...

I am a rape victim. I have PTSD and depression. I haven't made this blog for pity; I haven't made this blog for attention. I am here to share with you what it is like to be battling various mental problems on a daily basis. And venting my emotions onto here makes me feel at least a small bit better. Don't expect routine updates, and don't expect to ever find out who I am. I wish to remain anonymous so that I can share my story with the community, without the people that know me finding out who I am... and what I am. I warn you now, before you get into my blog: the content I post here may be triggering, and it may stir some deep emotions. -E.