A letter to someone who didn't understand:
I sat there and I finally talked about everything: all my symptoms, how this trauma destroyed my life and took everything from me. All my pain and suffering.
And I thought: "She understands. She understands how bad it is."
And after I finished, you opened your mouth and the only thing you talked about was how you were feeling because I asked you to stay away from my rapist. And then you talked about my rapist. How hard it was for him, how I couldn't expect him to focus on his guilt and deal with his crime all the time.
That was when I screamed at you. When I screamed that I am dealing with it all the fucking time.
Should I feel sorry for yelling? I'll be honest: I am not.
I screamed at you and I don't regret it.