Trigger warning: describes sexual assault
he took from me.
he ripped and sliced and diced my feeling of comfort to the point where i am convinced it has blown into the air and has drifted over the ocean
once she knew what was happening it was too late.
the image would forever be burned into her brain (now i see the image as looking different. sometimes i see a man with his arms between my legs as if he’s helping me deliver my child. instead his arms are just resting in a puddle of my blood. there is a piece of my organ there that he daintily holds with his claws (no, not literal claws). sometimes i feel the panties slipping down my legs and the dress being pulled up and a hand smacked on my mouth. and tightness around my knees. burned can mean many things).
he was not honest. he was not a human. he was not fair. but tis the life of a woman. maybe he was an exception to the rule. maybe all men are actually kind, caring and good. it makes me feel happy to think that.
that is not really how it is.
he truly is a scary alien with a pig-like body and a spider for a head.
well, not to the naked eye.
but when you have the eyes of me (woman) you start to see different things.
and NO it’s not from the bipolar. it’s from the abuse upon my sex.
do you also remember that whole bit about hysteria?
—a medical condition thought to be particular to women, caused by disturbances in the uterus—
a way for YOU to believe i am just suffering from bad PMS and bipolar.
(how did this conversation turn?)
after the threat of a yell he released his grip. why didn’t she yell immediately? why was it used as a threat and not as the first line of defense?
i think she was just very scared and shocked and confused and embarrassed and worried and terrified and lost.
yes, she lost herself.