This is my “positive” rape post. This is my “It Can Get Better” rape post. This is my “You’re Not Alone” rape post. This is my “I Hope You Can Believe It” rape post.

I seem to have mapped out my rape experience across this blog. It doesn’t take an attentive reader to delve beneath my sentences to find all my inner anguish and frustration at the situations I seem to have become entangled in, but it does take someone special to read those anguishes and then take them on themselves.

I was told a really long time ago that I simply had not found the right people to trust yet; that sooner or later someone was going to come along and make all those experiences feel as distant as a bad nightmare on a sunny morning. I’m glad it was you.

This will not be the last time I ever mention rape culture or wish to protest society’s refusal to see rape as the rapist’s fault. Nor will it possibly be the last time I ever blame myself for the events that happened those nights many years ago, or the last morning I pop pills to keep myself calm.

However, it is the first time I will believe all those who told me it would end eventually; that those frustrations, that pain, that hatred of myself would calm down; that the gigantic hole where I felt empty would someday be filled with more positivity.

Time may not heal all wounds, but you might heal mine.
(But, I’m not fragile; I won’t break.)
I’m not that girl anymore.

I do wish however, that I could go back and tell that girl that the ache will lessen; that the tears will stop. I’d tell her to buy red lipstick sooner and kiss a few more frogs.

Dear Boy Who Knows I’m Talking To Him;
Thank You.

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