last night i was told that if i was truly *****, i wouldnt be “dressing like a ****”.

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after you are touched by another person, they leave an invisible trace in your mind and on your body. that is not your fault.

it takes roughly seven years for the cells in your body to replace themselves. the past year has been spent in a state of hate filled dysphoria, and i refuse to allow him to claim any more of that time. my cells are in a state of rebirth, and i am patient with them.

unlike most **** victims, i have begun to learn to love my body. it is not my body’s fault that it was too weak to push him off of it. my body did not ask him to **** it, it specifically told him not to.

in six years, i will have a body that he did not touch. i am still affected by what happened, but i have accepted that it is not my fault.

i am unholy, i have been touched. i have felt the hands of despair, and looked into the eyes of wrath. i have formed bonds with the sloth inside me, found hope in avarice, and not once looked back.

i am unholy, and can only be filled with the envy that resides deep within my bones.

i am unholy, but i am not vain. there is no pride in my soul, and no soul in my body. there is nobody in the world that will hide the mark that you have left.

i am unholy, i have been touched by your hands, looked into your eyes, and mistaken your lust for love. i have formed bonds with your soul, and tied myself to your ribcage. i have allowed my hope to be swallowed, and failed to question the holes being drilled into my happiness.

i am unholy, but you are the devil