(no subject)
he sat there and smiled like he meant it.
a smile that mocked me, and made me feel more vunerable than i had ever felt before.
he smiled at me like i was naked, and he was eating me up with his eyes.
i crossed my legs and focused on the badly lit train tracks outside of the subway car, trying to make myself look less enticing with every thought and every awkward movement.
i bit my lip and shifted my weight in my seat, growing more nervous everytime i glanced back at him.
and everytime i looked, there was that same sick smile, a perverse grin that i couldn't stand to see.
i started thinking even more, while i looked at my transparent reflection in the plexi-glass window...
-when will i be able to go somewhere without some stranger thinking he knows what i want, what i need, what i should give up?
-how is it possible that someone can show you every disgusting fantasy they have, without uttering a single word?
-does my short skirt mean that i'm asking to be gawked at?
-am i cheap, a whore, a hussy, a trollop, a slut?
-why do i feel so sick to my stomach over one asshole who can't keep his eyes to himself?
in the midst of my many thoughts, the train came to a stop, and i got up to leave.
i held my jacket closed and walked with my head down, not wanting to see if he was watching me walk passed.
the train doors closed behind me, and then i looked back.
the smile was still there and he was still looking at me like i was a steak.
the train started to move again, and before it picked up speed, i saw him put his hand over the crotch of his pants and he gave me a wink.
that revolting act and small gesture infuriated me, and i just stood there with a grimace, still clutching my jacket closed around me.
when i was walking up the stairs, i remembered something that i had always known.
he had no right to make me feel that way.
i had no reason to let him.
and i won't let anyone make me feel that way again.
a smile that mocked me, and made me feel more vunerable than i had ever felt before.
he smiled at me like i was naked, and he was eating me up with his eyes.
i crossed my legs and focused on the badly lit train tracks outside of the subway car, trying to make myself look less enticing with every thought and every awkward movement.
i bit my lip and shifted my weight in my seat, growing more nervous everytime i glanced back at him.
and everytime i looked, there was that same sick smile, a perverse grin that i couldn't stand to see.
i started thinking even more, while i looked at my transparent reflection in the plexi-glass window...
-when will i be able to go somewhere without some stranger thinking he knows what i want, what i need, what i should give up?
-how is it possible that someone can show you every disgusting fantasy they have, without uttering a single word?
-does my short skirt mean that i'm asking to be gawked at?
-am i cheap, a whore, a hussy, a trollop, a slut?
-why do i feel so sick to my stomach over one asshole who can't keep his eyes to himself?
in the midst of my many thoughts, the train came to a stop, and i got up to leave.
i held my jacket closed and walked with my head down, not wanting to see if he was watching me walk passed.
the train doors closed behind me, and then i looked back.
the smile was still there and he was still looking at me like i was a steak.
the train started to move again, and before it picked up speed, i saw him put his hand over the crotch of his pants and he gave me a wink.
that revolting act and small gesture infuriated me, and i just stood there with a grimace, still clutching my jacket closed around me.
when i was walking up the stairs, i remembered something that i had always known.
he had no right to make me feel that way.
i had no reason to let him.
and i won't let anyone make me feel that way again.