To my rapist
Fuck you.
Fuck you for the days I spent crying.
Fuck you for the days I spent planning my suicide.
Fuck you for the disgust I felt for myself.
Fuck you for the panic I had when a man stood less than three meters away from me.
Fuck you for the unease I had, even with my own father, only because he’s a man.
Fuck you for my anxiety.
Fuck you for my panic attacks that hit me when I least expect it.
Fuck you for the disgust I have in sex.
Fuck you for the worries I have, whenever I wear something I feel sexy in, because I think it might make a man want to rape me.
Fuck you for the terror I have of going out of the house, because I’m afraid I might meet you.
Fuck you for the inability of being naked without thinking what you’ve done to me.
Fuck you for the nights I still lay awake crying.
Fuck you for every morning I wake up, thinking that today will be better, but it isn’t.
Fuck you for every day I spend at home because I can’t build up the motivation to get dressed or even shower.
Fuck you for the frustration I feel because talking to my psychologist doesn’t make everything better.
Fuck you for the dread I await the court date with.
Fuck you for ruining my self-confidence.
Fuck you for making my parents cry.
Fuck you for doing this to me 1 month before my exams.
Fuck you for being the reason I failed my exams.
Fuck you for the anxiousness I still feel around boys. Fuck you for the inability I have to laugh at sexual jokes.
Fuck you for being my every second thought every day. Fuck you for the sense of panic I feel every time I smell your perfume anywhere.
Fuck you for the anger I feel, because my life isn’t the same anymore.
Fuck you for the endless meds I had to take, to make sure I didn’t have HIV.
Fuck you for holding me back and kissing me before you let me run.
Fuck you for shushing me when I started crying.
Fuck you for not stopping when I clearly said no.
Fuck you for scarring me for life.
