burntoutstarlight - Tumblr blog

burntoutstarlight · 1 year ago

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hands

"they don't love you like i love you"

did anyone else love you?

i learned to sing that song for you because it was your favourite. your hands playing such a simple song on guitar had me in awe because we could make music together. a simple dream but one that was mine for so many years

you, you were a poet, supposedly. a writer. a romantic, but not in the way the word makes it sound; you romanticised life, romanticised yourself, in such a dark way to make it all sound far more interesting and ethereal and haunting than it ever was. you called yourself an idea, but you are no more or less a person than anyone else, trying to be different and special to entertain that sense of wonder in yourself. your hands were your tools and you wrote many things. the same hands that wrote heartbreak and love tried to kill me.

you let me into your world. i was the only one to know, because the ones before didn't care, or so you told me. i know you well enough. you're a fraud and i see right through you. this is what you wanted.

"if i can't have you, no one can"

the thoughts of someone with their head in outer space. a crazy romantic with bookish ideals.

i was asked if i wanted special measures today. things to obscure your face or make it so that i couldn't see you properly the next time i have to see you. i chose not to take them. for my own pride, i want to face the person that used those same hands that had once amazed me to try to take my life.

his hands that held mine all those years ago, the hands that bought me nice things and helped me with chores, were the same hands that held me down when he raped me.

your hands that held mine, the hands that made me food and brought me water when i was too tired, the hands that brought my post when i couldn't move and put on videos to entertain me whilst you were busy, the hands that did so many kind things over the years i knew you were the same hands that tried to kill me.

you used to smile at me so affectionately but there was nothing in your eyes when you plunged a knife into my throat.

i am scared to hold any hand, for i do not know what that hand is capable of. much like i did not know his capabilities, or your capabilities, for cruelty, i am terrified to know any more.

#storytime #cw trauma #cw abuse #stabbing

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burntoutstarlight · 2 years ago

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i went to college with a rapist

cw: rape, sexual assault, cheating

i think everyone does things that they regret. at the time, we think it's right for us,

it was never right. i'm sorry, endlessly, to the people i hurt and to the younger version of me, a poor, naive girl who deserved none of what happened.

it was a very innocent time. i was making friends easily. i had a crush on my classmate - the one with the cute face and even cuter smile. i was thriving in my classes, top of every one. every single day i would speak to this one guy. i considered him my best friend at the time.

my crush liked me back, but it was that guy who pushed us a little closer together. i don't understand why. he was viciously jealous of my then-boyfriend.

christmas sneaks up. december 23rd 20xx, my mother says i can't go to a sleepover because "there are boys there". she tells me, "if you get raped, don't come crying to me." so, i didn't. i'm respectful if nothing else. i leave. i do not look back except to thank my parents. they beg me not to leave, but what do you expect when you threatened for weeks, months, to kick me out? i'll make the move you're too scared to make.

i went to that sleepover. i had fun. i went home with the guy that christmas. i didn't know until much later that it was because of county bounds that i couldn't stay with my then-boyfriend. i didn't know. i thought he didn't want to take me in. i did not know. he was looking out for me the whole time.

christmas day arrives. the guy is aware that i should be grateful, and i promise i was. he ... wanted me to express that gratitude. he joked a standard joke of that age, "suck my dick", except it wasn't so much a joke when he unzipped his trousers and forced me to on his grandparents' bed. he trapped me against a wall for our first kiss. i should have known better, but if i did, i would not be writing this.

i cheated on my then-boyfriend. this guy, over the next few days, he would keep pushing and pushing and pushing. pushing for me to do this and that for his satisfaction. "just the tip" is such a stupid phrase that haunts me; he wanted my virgnity, and it angered him to no end to know that i had promised it to my then-boyfriend, and that i held onto that promise relentlessly.

it was... cruel, but i'm glad for it in a twisted way. my then-boyfriend and i took each others' virgnities, and i'm so glad he got to keep all of my important firsts, instead of the manipulator. i broke up with him shortly after, the devil whispering in my ear to do so. i thought it was the right choice. i was blind.

shortly after, i was with the manipulative bastard. everything was new and exciting at first, and rather happy too. as time progressed, i grew depressed. i had to have an excuse ready every single time he asked for sex or sexual favours. many of them would not work. i was regularly torn from forced entry. it was so sore. i remember the harsh feeling so fluently of him pushing into a place he wasn't welcome. i even tore his frenulum once from him trying to push in while my body was resisting.

i remember my friend's 18th birthday. i wore grey jeggings and a pink crop top that really was not revealing. my friend's boyfriend and mine played a drinking game. by the end, mine couldn't get up. he had to crawl. hers... slid behind me, where i sat on the sofa. he groped my breasts and tried to kiss my neck whilst i struggled to get away and reminded him that his beloved girlfriend was only upstairs, helping her sick sister. i threw myself to the floor to escape him and rushed outside. i told everyone about it, and they all sided with him. the partner who was supposed to protect me even told me he missed that offender.

it was a sleepover. i stayed the night. i don't know why i did. when i got home the next day, i tore up the clothes i wore. this aroused the manipulative bastard. that was the first memory i have of being raped. the curtains were drawn and the light wasn't on. i just wanted to destroy those clothes. he coaxed me to bed, forced me to take part in something i never wanted. sex always ended after he came, so once he did, i went to the bathroom to deal with it. i cried.

nobody told me i could say no and that was enough, and i wish they had. many times after that, it happened again and again and again. once, he cried, because he realised he'd hurt me. he cried so that i would be comforting him and he would not have to comfort me. he would not have done anything wrong in his eyes, or he would at least have atoned for it with his tears. i cried every time i wasn't too numb to. it always hurt. it hurt so much.

i started pushing him away over time. i wouldn't let him come visit, but i neglected breaking up because i was afraid to be alone. when we did finally break up, all of our friends sided with him except for two, one of whom stopped talking to me out of the blue one day after years of closeness. that was to be expected, really. he was the one with charisma, and i was awkward and quiet.

i cried and stayed in the dark in my room for two weeks once we broke up. it was over christmas, i had a microwave roast dinner. i cannot break tradition.

a month or so later i discovered he was cheating on me the whole time. i broke. i called the police. i told them about the rapes. i had to be painfully explicit. they arrested him.

they let him go because "he said he didn't do it in the interview" and i wished i was dead.

it has been 4 years since i did that. i found out this christmas through a meme from a mutual that he's not only dating but living with someone i thought was my friend. she has me blocked. the friend who stopped talking to me suddenly did so because of him. i don't know what he said, but i can make a very good guess.

i have lost trust and faith in those around me. i'm terrified and it feels like i cannot take a full breath. i'm choking on trauma i never wanted to relive, and yet, i am forced to, as i try to work out whether this was all in my head or i really was raped repeatedly over the course of around 2 years. logically, i know the truth, but so many people removing me from their lives, especially that one that knew my side of the story, ... trusting my experience of reality has been challenging.

i realise that i will never defeat this demon, i will only learn to live with it, but i can know with confidence that on the 15th of december in 2026, i will have a body he has never touched. even if that theory of cell regeneration does not work like that, it is a small and silly belief that has kept me alive.

i have had the strongest urge to act on poor impulses tonight to deal with the whole situation; reliving the trauma, the experience of betrayal, doubting reality...

i have people i cannot lose nor leave. guilt and pressure has made me do crazy things in the past, i can at least use it positively now, right?

#trauma #tw abuse #abuse survivor #tw assault #storytime

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