Jun 30 grace
I’m pulling knifes out of my back everyday
I’m counting sheep but they don’t keep the nightmares away
Pain has always been my friend
But I’ve never encountered anything like this
It’s beyond understanding
But it’s something I cannot forget
There’s no point in killing yourself if you’re already dead
I’m a ghost with a hollowed body and one god awful ugly head
The only thing I’ve ever been good for is to take from
He’s taken everything
She had it all
Now they just laugh and mock me while all I can do is fall
grace Jun 28
Red and hot,
quick and terrorizing.
Behind my eyes,
Teeth to bare and
a desert mouth.
Inside my head,
Boiling and bitter,
stiff and stringent.
In my heart,
Sometimes I still get mad at her for being with him.
grace Jun 18
Dark brown eyes:
Warm, inviting, kind.
Full of spirit and motivation.
Olive colored skin.
Soft in all the right places.
Rough in some too.
Comforting, and also
Dark pink lips.
Again, soft.
Sometimes chapped, but still soft.
Tender, doting.
Strong jawline.
Enticing, alluring, mouthwatering.
Defensive, secure.
Sometimes unshaven, but also
Intimidating but
All these things about his face
make me feel safe.
They are familiar now.
They keep my in the present time.
The touch of his cheek
against my own,
or the feeling of his scruffy chin
on my shoulder.
They are all comforts
when I am scared and anxious.
He is the one being
that I can trust
to never
grace Jun 18
I opened my eyes.
My limbs were stiff and my body was sore.
My vision was blurred;
Brain groggy and confused.
I stretched and felt pain in my hips.
Pain in my neck and arms and shoulders.
I looked around the space that I was in.
They were on either side of me.
I was cold and bare, displayed for everyone to see.
I gathered my clothes and left.
The sun was just rising on this cold December day.
The air was biting cold;
I could feel it stabbing my legs through my jeans.
Though my house was only a mile up the road,
I thought it would take years to get there.
It was surely below zero.
My bruised body and sore muscles
moved slowly.
I was freezing,
my brain was fogged over and unable to function properly.
Finally I had made it to my front door.
It was unlocked, and I knew enough to know that that was odd.
I stumbled in, frozen hands thawing in the heat.
My mom was at the table;
she waited for me to come home.
She asked where I was.
I panicked.
"Andrea's," I said.
She shrugged and went back to bed.
I went downstairs to my room and sat down on my bed.
My mind finally became more clear,
but I didn't know what had happened.
I tried to think but I could remember nothing.
All I knew is that something felt very wrong.
It felt like I had been violated.
My hips and thighs hurt with every move.
My arms were bruised,
my legs were bruised.
I was bleeding.
Something very wrong and terrible had happened.
I knew it, but I didn't know exactly what.
I started to cry.
I started to panic.
I ran to my bathroom and took a shower.
I told myself that I was fine.
The hot water boiled through my skin to my bones.
I must have been in there for an hour.
The whole time, I cried.
I threw out the clothes I was wearing
hoping my mom wouldn't find them in the trash outside.
"If you ever tell anyone, you'll be sorry."
They told me at school after break.
I moved to East Troy after that, taking what I remembered
and burying it deep down
inside my brain.
I denied it for a long while.
Denied it through my relationship with Mark,
who only made everything worse.
I'm dealing with it now,
but the details are still a little groggy.
And because I'm starting now to remember,
it gives me terrible gut-wrenching anxiety.
Even though I know I'm safe and I will not be hurt again.
It puts a strain on things sometimes. Like my relationship, I feel as though Brandon thinks that this is so foreign. I fear that my damaged emotional psyche might be too much for him to handle at times. He wouldn't leave unless there was probable cause, but it's still something that I fear from time to time. I hate this.
grace Jun 9
Tonight I had sex with the love of my life.
He held me close, kissed me gently.
Made sure I felt loved and safe, to the best of his ability.
So what happened tonight?
What has me so anxious?
What started as small panic, and
Led me to full blown mental chaos?
Everything that happened tonight with him was okay.
I wanted all of it and more, even.
Consensual, allowed, and perfectly okay.
Sometimes it takes a little longer for him to penetrate me,
because I remember the things that Mark had done
without my consent, and I tense up a little.
Tonight was one of those slightly more tense nights.
"Stop," I said. It had started to hurt a little.
He did stop, and he did what I asked him.
But not long enough.
He stopped only slightly;
Long enough for me to take a breath in,
which is normally long enough.
But I needed him to stop longer, not because it physically hurt,
but because mentally I started to panic.
I would tell Mark to stop.
I begged Mark to stop, and he never did.
The first time Mark raped me, I told him no
and I told him to stop multiple times.
I pushed him away until he overpowered me and raped me.
Tonight, with the love of my life,
that memory popped in my head.
The sex was enjoyable for me after I focused on my love's face.
But for that slight moment, I was back in time.
In that small "stop" that I whispered tonight,
it was Mark that was on top of me instead of my love.
It was Mark, tearing into my girlhood.
It was Mark forcing himself into me.
It was the stench of his breath on my face and neck.
It was Mark who forced me to kiss him.
All in that small, faint "stop" I had whispered.
And now I remember it.
I remember everything that he's ever done to me.
"Are you okay?"
No, I'm not okay. I was raped 4 years ago repeatedly, every day.
I was raped by someone I thought loved me,
but only cared about what is between my legs.
I was raped, and it still affects me almost every day.
And the fact that it affects how I interact with my love angers me. That is what happened tonight.
Something that started off so enjoyable with my love,
turned into something that I can never forget.
And I hate Mark for that.
grace Apr 3
I still hate you.
I hate you for looking at me in the hallway,
for catching my attention.
I hate you for blocking my way into the band room,
playfully bantering with me,
setting your sights on me.
I still hate you for telling me you loved me even when
we weren't dating,
acting like you wanted to date me,
and then hoping something would happen with Kelli, or Shae instead.
I hate you for following me when I walked away,
and trying to hold me as I cried,
because that was the first time you broke my heart.
I hate you for saying "Well I still chose you!"
when I had suspicions about you talking to other girls.
And I still hate you for the first time you took me into the trees.
Not by the tree you take all your victims to,
but to the trees closest to the church.
I hate you for not stopping when I told you to remove yourself from me.
I hate you for asking why i was crying and why i didn't like it.
I hate you for laughing at me
when I couldn't walk after the first time you raped me.
I am still enraged that you thought it was because you were so good.
I hate you for hurting me so badly.
I hate you for saying that you liked that I was so "tight."
I hate you for not stopping when i told you no a hundred times,
before you pinned me down,
took my pants off,
and forced yourself in.
I hate you because afterwards you were so "sweet"
and took me out for a walk after the pain subsided.
I hate you for all the times you said "Well i guess that means you don't love me"
every time i said i didn't want to have sex.
I hate you for acting sweet and like you loved me
in order to get me to stay with you.
I hate you for getting verbally abusive with me when i told you no.
I hate you for using my vulnerability against me,
and guilting me into letting you rape me. (Remember, i was 15, you were 18).
I still hate you for comparing me to other girls.
I still hate you for lying to me, and asking other girls for nudes.
I hate you for implanting this paranoia into my brain.
I hate you for blaming me for my pregnancy and miscarriage.
I hate you for blaming me because you got in trouble for rape.
I hate you for talking to a girl who i used to call my best friend,
lying about it,
all while talking to me at the same time.
I hate you for using my vulnerability to your advantage AGAIN,
and inviting me to your dads,
just so you could rape me,
and tell me you loved me,
and hurt me all over again the way you hurt everything.
I hate you for making me trust you AGAIN,
only to have you lie to my face about Victoria.
I hate you for leaving your mark on my soul, and ruining a few relationships I've been in
because I'm so paranoid from the shit that you've done.
I hate you for making me doubt the loyalty of the love of my life.
I hate you for making me think that everybody
is out to get me.
I has been THREE YEARS,
and I still fucking hate you.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is an abusive relationship. When i was 15, i met a guy named Mark Schmidt. He acted sweet, and like he cared, in order to trap me. And he did this all the time. Every time he thought i would leave, he would do something sweet and nice, and then continue to use and abuse me. I want you guys to remember that even though they are your significant other, it's still rape if you don't want it. It's still abuse if they hurt you, and tell you they love you right after. Its not ever your fault. I'm JUST NOW, starting to realize that not everyone is bad and out to hurt me. I'm starting to trust my current boyfriend and realize that he wont cheat on me or lie to me or hurt me. He will never be what Mark was.
grace Mar 23
I never thought that anybody would be this precious to me. I never thought that I would hold anybody so closely to me. I never thought that I could look at someone and find every single part of them beautiful and appealing. I didn’t think it was humanly possible for me anymore. But that all changed. It’s been changing, and I’m so glad that I’m not stuck in the past anymore.
Still I get scared sometimes that he won’t like me. Still, I sometimes almost expect negative comments about how my hair looks. I worry that he secretly hates it, or how I look. Still I sometimes expect to be compared to other women. But that’s not him. Sometimes I still think that he tells me I’m beautiful just so I’ll do what he says. That was somebody else. Somebody else, two somebodies, left me broken and scared and untrusting.
Mark left me damaged the most. Sometimes still I think my love will leave if I don’t pleasure him enough. Mark did that. He would tell me to get out if I didn’t want to have sex, or he’d then compare me to other women and tell me that they’d do it for him. He’d make fun of my boobs because they’re not perky. Or because my thighs jiggle when I walk. He’d make fun of my eyes because they’re not symmetrical. He told me that my dark hair made me look ugly, and that I should dye it red like Janet Devlin because “she’s the most beautiful girl” he knew of.
I believed those things. I stopped eating because of some things he said to me. I dyed my hair “Janet Red” for him, in hopes he would like me better, and he still made fun of me for it. He made fun of me for things I couldn’t control. My stutter, the way I said certain words, how I flinched when he touched my skin. He’d laugh at me, and in his laugh I could hear how stupid he thought I was. I believed him.
After all the things that happened with us happened, Mark invited me to his dad’s house. We took a shower together because he wanted to “see how I looked soaked and naked.” Still it wasn’t pleasing enough for him. He’d yelled at me because I didn’t shave myself or my legs. He didn’t want “pricks and thorns.” He made fun of the stretchmarks on my breasts. How my rear looked in the lighting. He made fun of my stomach because of the marks on it. Mark tore into my soul and shredded it piece by piece by single piece.
The second boy to hurt me was Jack. He was poison. He wasn’t nearly as bad as Mark but he broke my trust in a million pieces. He would tell me I was beautiful. He loved my curly hair. Told me he loved the way it sat on my shoulders and curved to my breasts. I dyed it purple and he wasn’t really on board with it. That was the only time he ever made me feel ugly. See, the thing about Jack is that he wasn’t happy with himself. So he used his unhappiness as a scapegoat on me. He gained some new female friends. “Oh I met them through some of the guys at work.” I believed him, as he was just starting to make new friends. Truth is, he used an app he downloaded. “Chassadie wants to cuddle with you!”
I asked him what it was. What the hell was he doing? And I couldn’t possibly fathom that he would cheat, since he always went on about how he’s been cheated on, and how much it hurt him. He said he accidentally downloaded it. But a few weeks later, I realized I was stupid. That he had lied. “Caylen wants to cuddle with you!” I asked him again and he said it was just spam. Again, I believed him. He lied straight to my face, without twitching or blinking. It takes a great actor to lie to that extent.
I logged into his email and found more of those “_ wants to cuddle with you!” Finally he broke and said “You know what, I’m just not happy with this relationship. You’re just not doing it for me. Never really did.” And went on to be in a relationship with Caylen. That brought me to the previous year, back to Mark, and how I felt then. I was sad and angry and now my trust was shattered. This was November 2016.
I went on for a while after that, into 2017 hating guys and thinking that the world was out to get me. I wouldn’t find anybody who was true to their word. I was just sort of empty. I was too scared to be in any relationships with anyone. Nearing the end of 2017, though, someone walked into my life, and will never be walking out.
Brandon came into my life on August 22nd, 2017, at approximately 8:32 PM. (I remember because I took a selfie with Allie right when I noticed him. I saved it on snapchat :D). Anyway, I’m pretty sure it was love at first sight for me. They always say you meet the one you’re going to marry on accident. I met him completely by accident I was baffled that someone so amazing existed. A few weeks later, we started dating.
Currently, this is the best relationship that I have ever been in. It’s been so easy for me with him, and yet so hard. I still find myself telling him not to look at me just because I feel like I look bad, and little flashbacks from Mark play in my head, making me think that Brandon might comment negatively on my appearance. I know he won’t because that’s not him and it never will be him. But still I get scared sometimes.
I get scared to be touched by him sometimes because I feel like I feel too gross. I know I’m not and he loves to touch me. I keep in mind that he thinks I truly am beautiful and it helps me to stay positive and remember that he will always treat me right. When he sees my skin, under all the clothes and hidden things, he only ever tells me I’m perfect for him. When he does, I tell him no, but deep down I think “yes, yes I am.”
Today, March 22nd, 2018, I took a shower with him. My heart was pounding. I was thinking of the last shower I took with someone else. The only other shower I’d taken with someone. I felt my mind start to slip back to that place and time, and I wanted to run out of the bathroom and hide. I was so anxious and nervous. Brandon got into the shower first, and I followed shortly after. He stood and he looked at me and told me I was beautiful. He continued to do that for the remainder of the shower. Each “Love you are so perfect” made me relax a little more. It made me feel so much better. I still didn’t let him touch me a whole lot, but he respected that. But I’m definitely even more comfortable with him now than I was yesterday. Or last week. Or six months ago. And I’m a little more in love with him now than I was a few months ago.
He’s the perfect one for me. A match to last a lifetime. Every time I think of waking up next to him, being married to him, watching our future children grow up… I get a little teary eyed because I’m just so damn happy to have found the perfect person for me.
Mark is a piece of shit. So is Jack.
Next page