January 12, 2009: Pitchforks
Originally posted on January 12, 2009. Reposted to this journal June 28, 2009.
Trigger warning.
Ugh. I unblocked Caroline the other day because I thought: You know, it's been a while, I think she has grown, and frankly, I don't want to see these names on my block list.
Of course, then my other friend pops up in my notifications and I see she has been tagged in an album. Oh! I think, I'll go see her photos!
Who owns this album? None other than Caroline. And who is in the premiere photo? THE MAN WHO FUCKING RAPED ME.
On the one hand, I do not want that bitch to even marginally dictate my account. On the other, I want to punch her IN THE FACE.
I want to scream to the world: This is my identity! This is my story! I was raped!
And I want to see her break down and cry because it suddenly hits her: Oh, shit, I abandoned my friend when she was most vulnerable because I had a crush on the man she accused and chose to believe his bullshit than trust the girl who was my friend for three years and had no reason to lie to me.
What a fucking wake-up call, eh?
I don't need her approval, I just don't want to have to worry about what i do and where I go.
Why is it fair that I will never, never trust people again.
I will always worry, "when do I have to tell them the truth?"
That's what I think now when I meet people: "Can I tell them I was raped? How would they react?"
I wonder, "Will I ever need to tell this person? What if I break down in their presence?"
"Can I get fired for breaking down because I was triggered by an image?"
"What if i run into him today?"
"What if I run into her?"
I play out in my head what I would do in these situations--I create lavish fantasies in which i am strong and nonchalant and she is a psycho and all-of-a-sudden everyone in the room realizes, "Wow! Missy is an incredible, strong woman! I can't believe these assholes are allowed to exist! Kill the ogres!"
Yes, there are pitchforks involved in some of these fantasies.
I dreamed about her last night, too. I dreamed about meeting her an an inaugural ball, and she was avoiding me, and I confronted her, and I found out that he raped her too. So, now I am wondering...maybe he did, and maybe she doesn't know because he was her first time and she didn't really want him, but he was so persuasive, and there was so much alcohol, and she's not like that whore Missy who cries rape and goes to the police and tries to get everyone to sympathize with her so she can ruin some poor guys life. No, she's not like Missy at all.
It's just...not right. I want people to know it's not right. The way I think and process the world around me is forever changed because one man decided he was entitled to a piece of my drunken ass and instead of responsibly realizing, "Hey, she is waaaaay to drunk--fuck, she is drooling vomit! I should get her some water and make sure she isn't suffering from alcohol poisoning--shit, she is, I need to get her to the fucking hospital!" he thought, "I'm'a get me some pussy tonight and teach this bitch a lesson!"
Fuck him. And fuck Caroline. I know what happened, and I know I am not a liar, and I know that I am fucking amazing for still being alive, let alone working a good job in an amazing city.
So, Fuck Him, and fuck any asshole who thinks it's okay to have sex with someone unable to give consent. I don't care how you rationalize it: It's rape.
Trigger warning.
Ugh. I unblocked Caroline the other day because I thought: You know, it's been a while, I think she has grown, and frankly, I don't want to see these names on my block list.
Of course, then my other friend pops up in my notifications and I see she has been tagged in an album. Oh! I think, I'll go see her photos!
Who owns this album? None other than Caroline. And who is in the premiere photo? THE MAN WHO FUCKING RAPED ME.
On the one hand, I do not want that bitch to even marginally dictate my account. On the other, I want to punch her IN THE FACE.
I want to scream to the world: This is my identity! This is my story! I was raped!
And I want to see her break down and cry because it suddenly hits her: Oh, shit, I abandoned my friend when she was most vulnerable because I had a crush on the man she accused and chose to believe his bullshit than trust the girl who was my friend for three years and had no reason to lie to me.
What a fucking wake-up call, eh?
I don't need her approval, I just don't want to have to worry about what i do and where I go.
Why is it fair that I will never, never trust people again.
I will always worry, "when do I have to tell them the truth?"
That's what I think now when I meet people: "Can I tell them I was raped? How would they react?"
I wonder, "Will I ever need to tell this person? What if I break down in their presence?"
"Can I get fired for breaking down because I was triggered by an image?"
"What if i run into him today?"
"What if I run into her?"
I play out in my head what I would do in these situations--I create lavish fantasies in which i am strong and nonchalant and she is a psycho and all-of-a-sudden everyone in the room realizes, "Wow! Missy is an incredible, strong woman! I can't believe these assholes are allowed to exist! Kill the ogres!"
Yes, there are pitchforks involved in some of these fantasies.
I dreamed about her last night, too. I dreamed about meeting her an an inaugural ball, and she was avoiding me, and I confronted her, and I found out that he raped her too. So, now I am wondering...maybe he did, and maybe she doesn't know because he was her first time and she didn't really want him, but he was so persuasive, and there was so much alcohol, and she's not like that whore Missy who cries rape and goes to the police and tries to get everyone to sympathize with her so she can ruin some poor guys life. No, she's not like Missy at all.
It's just...not right. I want people to know it's not right. The way I think and process the world around me is forever changed because one man decided he was entitled to a piece of my drunken ass and instead of responsibly realizing, "Hey, she is waaaaay to drunk--fuck, she is drooling vomit! I should get her some water and make sure she isn't suffering from alcohol poisoning--shit, she is, I need to get her to the fucking hospital!" he thought, "I'm'a get me some pussy tonight and teach this bitch a lesson!"
Fuck him. And fuck Caroline. I know what happened, and I know I am not a liar, and I know that I am fucking amazing for still being alive, let alone working a good job in an amazing city.
So, Fuck Him, and fuck any asshole who thinks it's okay to have sex with someone unable to give consent. I don't care how you rationalize it: It's rape.