oops..
Right so the trans guy me and Virtual bought hash from, a mate of hers apparently. She said his old name, that he hang around here years ago, I think she also said he'd hurt a girl. Yea would that be me by any chance?
It destroyed my mulitples, raping the one that always knew when to vacate. I thought he was kidding, he had slapped me. The sex had been lovely but hard for me to understand, people that young shouldn't have sex. Maybe he saw or heard about me and someone else. I remember him asking if it was because of him I cut. The other night when I remembered who he was and a little about how close we were and how fucked up everything was, I instantly felt like cutting.
He has turned up in a few surprising places, I become un me. It felt like I had never really felt like a person until we talked, the way he would treat me, the sex. But the constant pressure for violence and hate, the latent on brutal misogyny that is everywhere when your and abused young man. Powerful feelings, that got the better of him and me.
Abusers arn't people you can fall in love with, I'm too clever to fall for that bull. When I realised I was no different, the drugs and the tricks stopped working I felt and saw everything. He took my last safe place and I know that is not a small matter for him, knowing I am no further forward than I was 15 years ago. Still cringing at others sex lives, still denying my own, still hiding in the spliffs and away from scary people as much as possible. He used to talk so easily sometimes, like he was talking about a day a school, it was so ingrained so part of him. That acceptance of the way things were, he was a bright but twisted lad. I am still in this house, crying and waiting.
It destroyed my mulitples, raping the one that always knew when to vacate. I thought he was kidding, he had slapped me. The sex had been lovely but hard for me to understand, people that young shouldn't have sex. Maybe he saw or heard about me and someone else. I remember him asking if it was because of him I cut. The other night when I remembered who he was and a little about how close we were and how fucked up everything was, I instantly felt like cutting.
He has turned up in a few surprising places, I become un me. It felt like I had never really felt like a person until we talked, the way he would treat me, the sex. But the constant pressure for violence and hate, the latent on brutal misogyny that is everywhere when your and abused young man. Powerful feelings, that got the better of him and me.
Abusers arn't people you can fall in love with, I'm too clever to fall for that bull. When I realised I was no different, the drugs and the tricks stopped working I felt and saw everything. He took my last safe place and I know that is not a small matter for him, knowing I am no further forward than I was 15 years ago. Still cringing at others sex lives, still denying my own, still hiding in the spliffs and away from scary people as much as possible. He used to talk so easily sometimes, like he was talking about a day a school, it was so ingrained so part of him. That acceptance of the way things were, he was a bright but twisted lad. I am still in this house, crying and waiting.
