Who Am I?

Who am I? I am an 11-year-old fighting to breathe as the weight of a fully grown man crushes over me. I fight like hell to breath as his long dark fingers are forced inside of my body. I am now a part of the “one in every four female children”

Who am I? I am a 12-year-old girl who is forced to practice placing a condom on someone’s “manhood” as they sit back on the couch with their pants down.

Who am I? I am 13-year-old girl who is stripped from her favorite jean shorts, white shirt, and yellow bra while the same man strokes himself while watching me and an adult video.

I am a 14-year-old who takes the blame of her mother now being alone because the cops dragged her boyfriend from the home I would hide in beneath the stairs.

I am a 15-year-old struggling with her identity because I do not want to be nor resemble the girl who was forced to keep her hands behind her head as a man rubbed lotion on her freshly bathed body.

I am a 20-year-old woman who bleaches her dark brown hair as she still struggles with who she is. I changed everything about myself from the way I walked all the way down to the way I smiled.

I am a 21-year-old who becomes reckless because of a chemical imbalance and a hauntingly loud past. I lay on a college dorm bed past the point of blackout drunk as a guy takes my pants off and forces himself inside of me. I’m the girl who says no multiple times and pushes him off of me, yet still cries silently as I am taken advantage of. After, I am thrown into the hall as a team of “men” laugh at me because they can hear me outside of the door.

I am a 22-year-old woman who no longer knows the meaning of life and wants nothing more than to drive off the side of the mountain.

I am now a 23-year-old woman. A lost woman. An angry woman. A hateful woman. I am now a woman who builds walls higher than the naked eye can see in order to protect myself from all evil around me. I am bitter. I am empty.