There are so many things I'd like to say to you. I truly do wish you physical harm every waking moment of my life. The most important thing I hope you gather from this is that you did not break me.
You might've made me stumble a little. You were supposed to be one of my friends. Someone I thought I could trust enough to not rape me. It was the least of my worries. You were supposed to be my FRIEND.
Okay, maybe I faltered a lot more than a "little". You took something from me that I can never get back. Because of you, I slowly lost control of myself, and it was terrifying. I felt so lost after you raped me because you turned my other "friends" against me. So I transferred schools. I changed majors. I chopped my hair off. I flailed around life for a while; I pretended everything was just fine. I coped by drinking alcohol. A lot of alcohol. It was ironic, really, because that's what you used to take advantage of me.
After countless nights of drinking too many Vegas Bombs to count, I would waste my days away by focusing on exercise. I counted calories, and soon it became my obsession. Every single piece of food that entered my body, I tracked. I started running (even though I hated running.) I would sometimes run 4 miles a day. After I ran my 4 miles, I would go to the gym and continue to work out for a few more hours. It gave me such a strong sense of power over my own body. I felt like I was healed! It was miraculous.
Then the nightmares came... Such intense nightmares. So intense that I never slept. I didn't ever want to see you again, yet there you were. That evil smirk on your face, the entirety of your body holding mine to the floor, hurting me over and over again. I would wake up in a cold sweat, thrashing around my bed. I was forced to relive what you did to me almost nightly. I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes for more than an hour at a time because I was so afraid I would see you again. You disgusted me. You still do, and you always will.
I started to see a counselor after a few weeks of those awful nightmares. Then came the Prozac, because you gave me Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Along with the PTSD came depression, and anxiety, and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (hence the calories and the running.) My life as I once knew it spiraled entirely out of control. You threw me off the tracks, and for the longest time, I thought I would never be able to find myself again.
And somehow, I stumbled upon the love of my life amidst the train wreck of a life I had created for myself.
I started going back to school, and did exceedingly well in it, too. I began to realize that out of all the excruciating pain you managed to put me through, I came out so much stronger. I knew how to handle the nightmares and the panic attacks for once. I counted calories, but not the same way I was before. It faded from an obsession to an occasional tracking. I was able to forget about the urge to control everything about my body. I exercised, but I wasn't worried about my 4 miles or 2 hours of exercise at the gym. I didn't feel lost anymore. I had someone so amazing by my side helping me repair the damage you created in my soul. Soon, I came to realize that I was healing. There was a light at this seemingly never-ending tunnel I was trapped in. I'm still in that stage, because I can't escape those nightmares completely (though they're so much less frequent now).
In all of this tragedy you've brought upon me, I want you to know that you did not break me. You might've slowed me down, maybe even knocked me over. But I am still whole. You helped me find the person I was meant to be. I rebuilt myself, discovered my sense of purpose, and learned that it really wasn't my fault.
It was not my fault.
It was not MY fault.
It was NOT MY FAULT.
That weight lies on your shoulders now.
