During the time in my life in which I was violently raped, I was also very much in love with someone. Being robbed of your emotional stability really makes you hang onto people, and so I did.
I didn’t realize that I was raped, and I wouldn’t use that term for it for many months to come. I thought I didn’t say “no” loud enough. I thought his fist down my throat to keep me quiet was some kind of weird fantasy role play. He told me I was beautiful, and that he couldn’t control himself. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have worn that dress, and maybe I should stop wearing makeup if I tease people like this. I believed this.
So when I went to the apartment of the man I still loved not too long after that, he touched me, but he touched me in the way…
View original post 270 more words