[TRIGGER WARNING] Sexual Abuse.
[TRIGGER WARNING] Sexual Abuse inside.
[Confession] I wish my rapist just killed me when he raped me.
Listen before I go off: I am not suicidal. Yes I am seeing a therapist, literally booked it tomorrow and been seeing therapists for QUITE some time now. But I need to let this shit out cause that's how I cope with this bullshit. Tbqh I bet he will hear me tomorrow and laugh with his gay partner all night long at my shitty life. But alas, yes I am seeing someone tomorrow.
I'm currently a little exhausted, drained, fatigued impaired too. But fuck it.
I need to pop off one hell of a rant here.
My life has been on a downhill slope since he raped me. "The whore who left medicine" a med school dropout failure. Laid off loser incapable of getting a basic job or love.
And know what's sadder? I bet that my rapist who has shit on my name and had the support of the gay community where I live beats his dick off knowing every day I am around is a FUCKING MISERY. He knows he's got the upper hand, he knows he's got power and he fucked me with it. He fucked up every fucking aspect of my fucking life and he fucking LOVES it.
I've been fucked by power. And rendered TOTALLY helpless.
Meanwhile he's out there having the time of his life. HOW IS THIS FUCKING FAIR? I was genuinely raped. I was genuinely victimized. I was the one running to the sexual assault center the next day. I am the one that deals with flashbacks and nightmares on a constant basis from it.
Yet here he is living his best life laughing all the way to my fucking MISERY. My adamant inescapable fucking torment. The rapist won. All because he's tall and hot. Literally. The rapist, the predator the fucking monster is living their best life and I the victim have been used like toiletpaper by him and thrown away.
I am literally his toiletpaper. That's all I am now. Don't bullshit me telling me otherwise when I've lived this hellhole life.
This is literally hell. My life is hell.
I have been raped, pillaged and left in an inescapable prison.
Reality is a few years ago I was raped not once but twice in "one go". I left the medical field and dropped my dreams of being a doctor and was extremely vulnerable, VERY fragile and very messed up. I made up all sorts of excuses why I did it and ultimately caused way more pain to myself than necessary looking back. But fact is I was vulnerable.
I just wanted to be loved, told I matter, held and protected. To feel like I wasn't a failure in everyones eyes-- because I was a bit of one in my own eyes for leaving medicine. I hated myself so fucking much for it and needed someone to tell me I was going to be okay.
I found this SEEMINGLY perfect wonderful beautiful man that was charming, absolutely charming, and came across as compassionate. He was my "knight on a horse in shining armor". Until I went to his place and he forced himself onto me when I made very very clear I wanted NO SEX PERIOD because I was extremely phobic of any STDs. Like that for many years was my "thing" where I couldn't even touch a person because I was genuinely scared of them. It was a dumb phase. A really dumb phase given how I was literally taught STDs. But it was a phase I was in. Irony is I wouldn't check for STDs out of raw fear after the event until months after. Because I was mortified. I didn't want to see the damage done.
So I was the perfect, insecure, questioning my life, in my early 20s "wtf is the meaning of life" crisis mess.
Anyhow whatever that's TMI but I am fucked up rn so blaah.
All I wanted was to be told I mattered, that I was still valuable, that I was okay. That I was worthy of love. I was so fucking desperate for it after leaving med. So fucking desperate.
So basically I got raped. I went to the sexual assault center on campus the next day and I did the depressingly common "oh I must have done something wrong he is so good and I don't want to be alone and I'd rather be with someone who abused me than no one at all" speel. But an undergrad volunteer that doesn't know shit about how abuse victims work didn't point out that it's insanely common for people to protect their abusers and desperately cling onto them and blame themselves. HAH if only I had a good psychologist back then rather than someone desperate to get an EC onto their application.
Sad as fuck but that's where my brain was at. See, I knew something was wrong as I went home COVERED in bruises (from the physical abuse). I was in serious back pain. My hips hurt. My butt hurt my neck hurt. I was a mess. But I wanted to be loved.
But the rape happened in December and I also was going into final exams for a semester to prove "Oh he should swap to compsci" so I shoved this to the side and focused on my finals. Idk if it was a coping mechanism or what-- but I was able to focus on my finals and get A's. But after... after that? I crumbled. I fell to pieces. I shattered. My world was flipped upside down and I was broken. I started having flashbacks that includeed the physical sensations, the smells, the sights of that small little room with that stupid tiny bed and the shelves and the paperwork for an application he was filling out for his education. I remember it all too fucking well.
The next semester I was cracking, I was failing to do assignments. Begging professors for mercy ona ssignments, asking professors for notes and overall my life was cracking apart. I was skipping classses because I was having PTSD attacks nonstop. I was staring at lockers in the gym blankly... just blankly staring at them for 30+ minutes on end. I ended up sometimes even crying in bathrooms and overall I was a mess. Heck I even stopped going to the gym for a while because of it.
I puked in public from the anxiety and panic attacks. I've collapsed to the ground just shaking in horror and I've been a fucking embarrassment since.
And all I've wanted is to be held. The only fucking thing that makes it stop is being held. That's it. That's the only fucking thing that truly stops the flashbacks, the pain, the anxiety.
Realizing this I began to try and go to meet guys IRL. In particular my biggest outing was the local gay bear events. But I was treated poorly there, I was laughed at, mocked, made to sit in a corner alone and overall I went to probably 5 events that all panned out to be a bunch of bullshit. I had a few friends before I went to these events from places like tumblr and stuff all added on facebook. The coming years after these events we grew more distant and they ended up removing me.
Honestly I fully blame it all on my rapist shitting on my name and using his power (he is VERY attractive and tall. VERY. VERY. VERY.) to manipulate them. He made up the narrative that I was fucking lying about the rape. Yeah how many years later and I STILL suffer from the fucking PTSD? I still have flashbacks? I still am stuck in this rut? False narrative my fucking ass.
And everyone believes him because he's tall and hot and they want to get into his fucking pants. Not a single fucking person asked my side of it.
And this hasn't even fucking stopped. I noticed a few weeks ago one of the people I had considered to be one of my closest friends who even confessed their love to me a few years ago (we got on good terms) removed me from their fb.
Fuck I was even laid off a few months ago and I know a few people in that community are in the software field.
I wouldn't be surprised if I was genuinely blackballed. Because I know I am a capable developer that can make shit work. Yet because they choose to believe a tall attractive man over an actual real victim.
Ya'll don't know power until you've experienced it. And I've experienced it in SPADES. He's ruined my life and I FULLY blame him for it.
-> Not able to get anyone to love me.
-> Not able to get a damn job.
-> Constantly shit on and made fun of and treated like shit.
So I can't fucking move forward in any capacity. I try to move forward, get fucking crushed. I try to move forward in another way? Get crushed that way.
Honestly... What's left? What's fucking left of me? I am a broken useless husk of who I was before.
And the sad part is I know his fucked up ass is enjoying every second of my misery and probably jacks off to it. No really, he probably fucking SAVORS every minute I am suffering.
I wish when he raped me he just killed me. I fucking mean it.
I can't even pay guys to hold me at this point. I can't even fucking PAY them to get held. And no I am not Mr. Moneybags but this is how fucking desperate I am to just be held to just make the flashbacks stop.
I just want to be loved. I just want to be loved that's fucking all.
But HAHAHAHAHAHA not going to happen clearly.
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