"Hollow. Numb. Cold."

Hollow. Numb. Cold.
Nothing prepares you for when you become a shell of a person.
The sheer terror of vulnerability.
The struggle to find the words to tell others how your body
was nothing more than a vessel to quench an insatiable monster.

Blacked out. Drunk. High.
When I was rudely awakened to my legs being pulled with
such an aggressive force, my first instinct was anger, to fight.
But the pressure, the guilt, the feeling that I "owed" him...
If I fight back, would I be able to take him?

Shock. Fear. Frozen. 
When he penetrated me, tearing open my skin, I cried.
It hurt. But I didn't stop him, or say no.
I lay there, motionless, dissociated from my body.
I hoped and prayed that it would be over soon.

Guilt. Regret. Anger.
I held this intense fear of labeling the act as the horror it was.
Why am I so scared to say the word? Rape.
Because I didn't want to believe it.
I didn't want to believe that someone I trusted could do that to me.
I didn't want to believe that he betrayed me.

Confusion. Pain. Despair.
You should have said no.
Why did you go with him?
You should have fought back.
Why do you not respect your body?
If I was a victim, then why am I being blamed?

Denial. Embarrassment. Anxiety.
How do you bring up the fact that you were raped?
It's such a sickening feeling when you have to explain
that your body was violated without your consent.
You replay that moment over and over in your head.
Am I overreacting? Did that really happen?

Shame. Rejection. Isolation.
There is the slow hitting realization that what happened to you was not okay.
I never knew it was so rare to receive empathy as a victim of sexual assault.
People view you as tainted, lesser than, sub-human.
Disgusting. Ruined. Broken.
I am a hollow shell of a human.

Depression. Grieving. Hopelessness.
The following days are hollow and filled with an onslaught of tears. 
You grieve the loss of the version of you that no longer exists.
When you are in a cycle of unfortunate circumstances, you can't help but think,
Did I deserve this? Is it karma? Am I a horrible person, deserving of mistreatment?

Acceptance. Healing. Transmuting. 
As much as you want to end your life and free your spirit from this earthly vessel,
you know that the effects of suicide is a permanent pain. 
As much as it hurts now, your death would be devastating to your loved ones.
You fill others with so much joy, there is no need to fill them with more pain.
You are a radiating beam of light in a dreadfully abysmal cave.

You are so strong. You are so brave. I'm so sorry that happened to you.
You didn't deserve it. It wasn't your fault. 
You are a cosmic light, filled with warmth and innocence.
You are deserving of love, kindness, and respect.
You are full, passionate, and fiery.

-m.p.