You used to be a good friend to me. My movie pal, my gym partner. When I got with someone that I had been close with for a bit, you weren’t happy. You’d start leaving the room if I got calls, you’d start being snappy with me and just downright mean. You never used to be like that with me ever. You were always careful with me because I’m often sick and frail. I never even neglected our friendship despite the relationship. It got bad, you got worse. You started shouting at me all the time, cornering me. I was scared, so scared of you. I never felt safe anymore and I didn’t know how to tell anyone. I ended up crying a lot. You got so mad the last night you stayed and you shoved me into the counter and raised your hand to me. I was terrified and crying. It was 2 AM and I begged you to calm down or the neighbors would complain. I was shaken. I finally managed to go to bed. You had a date the next day and I was happy for that. I always told you put yourself out there. I woke up to you touching me, and I tried to push you off and told you no please stop. You didn’t. You kept going and telling me how pretty my body was and it would be such a waste not to. I cried. I didn’t have the strength to shove you off and you kept me pinned. When you were done you fixed yourself up and left for your date. I had tears coming down my cheeks and laid there in silence. I curled up with a stuffed animal feeling so broken. I didn’t talk to anyone much at all. My partner didn’t even find out until later in the evening because of one of my roommates who I had cried to silently about it before passing back out. My partner was angry very angry. Authorities were called and you fled the state.
Here I am, it’s been a bit. I’m not okay. I hate myself. I cry in the shower still feeling like I washing off this filth. Sometimes I stay in there longer and sit on the floor. I don’t talk much anymore. I hate my body, my skin. And because I’ve gotten this way I feel it’s put a damper on my relationship so much that it’s not like it used to be because I’m not “me.” Most nights I’m crying myself to sleep still. I’ve become suicidal, I even ripped up my arm a while back. I’ve been getting better about that. But I still feel suicidal. I keep trying with therapy and psychiatrists. But I still feel the same. I hate you for what you did to me. I don’t even like myself anymore, I don’t know how to. I have nightmares of you hurting me and I still sometimes feel my skin crawl. I hate that I don’t talk as much and that I’m not as bubbly since it happened. I flinch when my shoulder is tapped or people bump into me. I don’t feel safe at home still and I’m stuck here for now and can’t just move out. Now I just feel like a burden for needing to be loved on a little harder, and for others to understand this isn’t my fault I’m like this. A burden to my friends who feel like I need a babysitter.
I wish I was my best again. I truly do. I don’t even wanna be here anymore.