I don't like being called "good girl" anymore.
Not because I don't like the way you say it, or why you're saying it. No.
I don't like being called "good girl" because of a man.
I met him at a party, my friend ditched me.
I was watching everyone around me relax and have fun, but I was so tense.
He must have picked up on my weakness, like a predator to prey.
He handed me a drink and kept me company, he said I looked nervous.
He told me to relax and to take a hit off his joint.
I didn't want to be there anymore, but I tried to take his advice.
We sat on the floor near the double doors and he told me I still looked nervous.
He said I had no reason to be that he'd never let anything happen to me.
I just laughed because he only just met me.
Next thing I remember I wasn't feeling too good, my head was dizzy...no cloudy, and the floor was the ceiling.
I remember his eyes on me, so hungry.
I remember his hands on me, whereas mine were incapable of moving.
He couldn't meet my eyes and I couldnt remember where we were or how we got there, but it wasn't by the double doors anymore.
I remember noises, the dim lighting around us, I tried to focus on anything and everything else.
I was screaming, but I don't actually know if the noise came out.
I remember the hot tears that slid down my face as he slid over my body.
I was a toy, I couldn't do anything, I was a puppet to his whim.
He stoked my face occasionally and said I was a good girl, that I didn't need to be nervous, that I was a good girl, to just take it.
I remember wailing, his hand covering my mouth, my lips bruising, my body throbbing.
I haven't seen myself the same since, there wasn't anyone I felt safe with, not a hand that didn't feel like his.
I get sick at the thought of him, at the thought of that act he forced me to commit.
I didn't know his name but I knew his face because it haunts my dreams.
I scare easy now, I want to hide but sleep can't even save me.
I didn't want to be a good girl, I never wanted to be a good girl.
So please...please.
Don't call me one.

I can still feel your hands on me,
The way they took, the way they gripped at my skin until I screamed.
You liked hearing me scream but you held a hand over my mouth just in case there were ears nearby.
You bruised my lips with how hard you held my face in place, I could barely breath.
Your hands they took, savagely, selfishly
Your eyes trailed my body with a tenderness that you couldn't possibly possess.
They humiliated me, for I was open, helpless.
Weak.
You took and took, and you ******* took!
I cried, I kicked, I begged, but you were all about finishing what you started.
I can feel your hands, everyone who has ever touched me has your hands.
I'm crying, I'm crying, I'm crying, somebody help me, please stop, no more!
I want to feel pretty but not like this.
I flinch at the unexpected embraces.
I awaken in fright when I should be at peace in the night.
You took.
And you couldn't even look me in the eyes because you knew.
You knew
...
But you still took.

It's not worth it, but you are worth everything.

I don't hate anyone, it's not in my nature.
I hate me, but I'm nobody really.

When you leave I'll cry myself a river and drown in it, I promise. Because never again will I build a bridge to cross it, they always burn...

I'm drawn to you...
Not like fish are to the sea, or fire is to the wick of a candle,
No, I am drawn to you like a moth is to the flame, like a viking is to a ****** war.
I am drawn to you, despite the danger because I know in my heart that is where I belong and where I need to be, even if it ends up killing me.

And one day you just woke up and forgot about us, forgot about the moments that stopped time for me, the moments where the dark thoughts stood silent. You ruined me, and one day I hope it will be effortless to hate you for it.