Return to Writing
I started this blog January 2022. You raped me February 2023. I'm finally writing again January 2026.
Typing in the url I had no idea what I was going to be met by. Truly have no recollection of what I've written. Rereading it is like going to coffee with my past self. I feel so protective of her. She and I are the same. I don't know why that makes me so sad.
I think I like to believe that I am a completely different person from who I was. The only way I can cope with the fact that I hated my life so much is to believe that I must have been so different. My life is better now because I have evolved or improved. And yes there have been changes (nature of time), but at my core I am the exact same bitch.
A part of me died in 2023. I was driven to such a psychosis that I was just gone. The parts of me I liked ceased to exist. I was so unlike myself that I was able to believe that my rapist was the love of my life. I changed the way I dressed. I got new glasses. Stopped watching movies. Started listening to different music. The thought of a man touching me made me sick. I was carrying this burden that the last time i had sex was when you raped me. It was an unwashable reality. My vulnerability and sexuality was so tied to my idea of my identity that no longer being able to participate in that part of me felt like I lost everything. A once confident person turned into a petrified shell. My fear took precedence over literally everything. Paranoid. Neurotic. Skeptical. Delusional. I started taking anti psychotics to deal with the hallucinations. No one could convince me that everyone in my life didn't hate me. That everyone I crossed on the street wasn't considering killing me. My only motivation to work was because I was fueled by the validation I got from my boss. My career was the only arena where I was confident that doing the right thing would result in actual reward. You shook my confidence to where I couldn't trust myself in any other aspect of my life. I lost my sense of reality to where i genuinely believed a liberal lifestyle is the reason i got raped. If only I leaned into my divine feminine, God would protect me. Celibacy, conservatism, heteronormativity. Blame the gays and the immigrants and the homeless. They just need to pull themselves up by the bootstraps. Don't they know they are to blame for their own suffering? Because I know I am. I am the enlightened one. I know that I am at fault.
Then suddenly I was resurrected. Not so drastic in “I was dead and now I'm alive”, rather I layed in the earth and a seed fell on me and when I finally cried the tears watered it into a sprout. A tiny mustard seed sprout. And with every day the sun rised the sprout grew more and more. I thought the only way I would ever walk the earth again would be as the walking dead. Destined for a life of rotten flesh motivated by primal desires, not spiritual ones. But my sprout is now a tree, and it bears the same fruit it bore before you. A fruit I thought to be extinct. A fruit I thought you killed. I plan to make jams and pies and salads. I will co-opt my trad-life psychosis and turn it into an AR-15 and blow away any mother fucker that tries me. I’m happy you couldn’t kill yourself because your corpse would have toxified my earth, and I really like my fucking tree.
I hope the part of me that writes comes back too.
*In republishing this site I am seeing I took it down a month after I met you, November 2022.
