On March 6, 2011 I was raped by my friend
It’s March 6, 2021 and it’s like the only thing that permits me to believe that is the rumbling of my cat purring on my belly.
I try to stay positive and hopeful each year that maybe it won’t be a hard day. I try not to fixate on it too much as the day approaches. I try not to fixate on a lot of things, but I’m not very good at it. Anyway, this year I didn’t have a chance to be hopeful. Yesterday beat me to the punch.
I have a lot of bad days. But this is a special kind of bad day.
It’s kind of like watching a movie you never liked for the 1,000th time, each step of the way wanting to scream at the characters for every innocuous decision they make that leads to the really shitty ending, and then the ending lasts forever. So you’d really like to prevent it.
Don’t believe him. Don’t let it slide. Don’t make excuses for him. Don’t trust him. Don’t open the door. Don’t let him in. Don’t care. Don’t laugh. Don’t talk to him. Do anything but be his friend. All the while knowing you can’t change a thing and even if you could, you can’t change him, and there’s nothing helpful about thinking about “if only.”
I want to say more, but this is all I have right now.