CW: Sexual Assault

I opened up Timehop today while waiting at the bus stop. It was freezing outside, and I had just had the realization that I left for the bus stop way too early. I opened up Timehop today mostly just to get the notification to go away. After all, the anniversary of my Aunt's death just passed, and my ex-best friend's birthday too. There's still a few weeks left until my birthday and Christmas. I didn't really think there was anything worth remembering from some random December 8th of however many years ago. I'm still not sure what I saw even is worth remembering. In all honesty, I wish I could erase December 8th of six years ago out of existance.

That was the day we met. Do you still remember that day like I do? I'm sure you don't. But, a weird part of me kinda wishes you would. We had a lot of fun that day. We bonded over mutual friends and our similar tastes in music. We laughed at raunchy jokes and played silly teenager games like "Never Have I Ever" surrounded by other people we hardly knew. You talked about your long-term girlfriend, and I about the girl I was madly in love with who barely remembered my name. A depressed little loner like me could have really used some more friends. I though I made a friend that day.

I'm still not sure when exactly that all changed. When friendship turned into flirtation or a simple text turned into some sort of hidden message. But over the course of that first year, it's clear that something did. Because by the next fall, you were no longer a friend to me. You were a monster. Suddenly, memories of innocent party games and Taking Back Sunday were painted over by those of a smelly couch in a dimly lit room, and tears rolling down my face as the smell of your gum permanently stained my mouth and other various body parts.

I'm not sure when I stopped wearing short skirts to school out of fear of leading on every guy I saw. Or when friends turned to foes as everyone was suddenly expected to pick a side in this "he said, she said" argument you created. I'm not sure when I was labeled as an easy catch because half of the people we fucking knew were told your convaluted side of a story that wasn't yours to tell. Or when something as simple as a single tune of a song or the color of a rug became a trigger so strong that it deflates all the air from my lungs.

I'm sure Timehop will remind me.