I am writing this letter to you because you don’t know what you did to me. You ruined me. In more ways than one. I am a mess and I blame this all on you. You are sick and wrong and cold. I hope one day you realize what you’ve done and it tears you apart. I could sit here and write out a list of things I wish upon you, but instead I just want to say I hope you get what you deserve.
There is something to be said about me wanting you to take my innocence, but in the end I said no. You kept going. Pushing my hands above my head, I was crying and you were satisfied. I can not stand my body because you touched it. You made me feel like a dog. You have no idea what I feel or what I’ve done to try and get back at myself for your wrongdoings. No. **** that. They weren’t wrongdoings, they were ****** up actions that made you seem in power. Stop blaming other people for things that you caused. You are sick. Completely and utterly, disgusting. I wish you were dead because maybe then I would finally have peace.
I have given my body to a handful of boys after you and what the **** am i supposed to do when all of them remind me of you? You make me ill. So ******* ill. I hope you have nightmares about how disgusting you are, because you are a pig. A vile, vile pig. You will never ever know what I am thinking and that tears me the **** apart. I drive by your house twice a week just to see if your car is outside so I can slash the tires.
As much as I wish you were dead, I wish I was dead. I wish this never would’ve happened to me. I wish I never would’ve gotten in the car with you. Wish I never said yes then no. You ruined my life. Until you understand what you’ve done, you will never know how it feels.
Rot in Hell.