I wish I could just pick up the phone and call them.
"Oh, me?
I live in a domestic violence shelter because one of my best friends took advantage of me.
I'm consistently terrified of doing anything because I think somewhere in my mind that doing anything will get me raped or beaten.
I'm trying to get better, but I keep remembering all these horrible things you did to me and sometimes I can't sleep because of it and I feel like I'm fighting off a tidal wave with a cardboard sword and shield. Cardboard doesn't do so well in water, you know.
But other than that I'm fine. How are you?"
***
My dad used to pray after he raped me. After every time. He wanted god to cleanse him. He made me pray too, but more because he didn't want the devil to get me or something. He could be cleaned, but I couldn't. I just had to hope that god didn't notice how dirty I was. My dad blamed me for his actions. Of course he did; taking any sort of responsibility for them himself would be admitting that there was something horribly horribly wrong with him and that he needed help. I can't look at crosses. I can't enter a church without getting the molested sensation. I have a hard time being spiritual because I equate it too much with religion. I can't believe I'm outside right now. I'm in my dad's neighborhood. I don't know what I would do if he saw me.
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I don't know what to say other than "I love you," and I hope that you won't think it's because I don't care. I just don't know what else to say other than angry shit. Because I love you and I can't believe anyone would ever-- COULD ever-- hurt you at all. Much less so badly.
He doesn't deserve to live.
if that happens which i hope like hell it wont; tell the parasite i have a motherfucking oozie with his fucking name on it.
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