i hate looking at you.
i hate that you're  in front of me in class.
that i have to  talk to you.
participate with you.
pretend that everything is fine.
it's not.
i'm not.
i'm not okay.
but i pretend that i am, because no one will believe me.
if i tell them what you did they'll say "him? never."
and it hurts.
i try to tell all the other girls you woo but they're too caught up in being your lover, or should i say next victim.
one by one, you toss them out like garbage.
like you did me, as if what you took from me is replaceable.
it's not.
i'm not.
i'm not replaceable.
what you took from me isn't replaceable.
i will live this pain forever and never able to tell a soul.
i can't tell them about the nightmares.
the scars.
the feeling of dirt on my body that will never go away.
i'll only continue to imagine what it would be like if it never happened to me.