one year since i made the worst decision of my life
(worse than ryan ever was.)

2014, the year i was molested
the year i decorated my arms and thighs
with a knife
and a cigarette lighter.

2014, a year of ups and downs
commemorated by the first time you shoved your hand down my pants, held my face down on your ****, pushed me up against a wall with your hand up my shirt

...how does one celebrate such a year?
dinner?
a movie?
flowers?
gifts?
more *** that i don't want?

sounds about right.

excuse me if i don't feel like
celebrating,
boyfriend.