These past few days have been that quiet sort of sad that makes you ache, with a dash of throbbing pain here and there.
I know I thrive on your pain.
I wear your suffering like crown jewels for all to admire. I've taken advantage of your stress and bitterness for my own small portion of fame, however minor.
and you've always ended up enjoying your part of the ride.
But darling,
This is a different kind of pain, and I know that.
You know the parts of your body that he bruised in his violent thirst for ***.
You know the person he reduced you to.
You lived without your dignity for
so
long.
He was wrong, honey.
He was very, very wrong.
And you're not crazy.
He may have treated you as if you were nothing, but it took you being an
incredible
something
to leave him, and then stay left.
I know it's hard to forget that feeling when you'd have to face the mirror and see your naked body covered in bruises and soreness, and have to exist daily with the consequences of his aggressive "love" all on your own.
But honey, you did it.
He may have been able to make you feel damaged and broken, but there is so much more to you beyond any of that.
Every day at your backcountry job, you're reminded of how cruel men can be. How hungry they can be to bask in vulnerability and exploit dignity.
But here you are still.
What a fighter you are.
-Anonymouse Freak
This was a journal entry I wrote myself several months ago to comfort myself. I had meant to never let anyone see this, but I felt that others might need to know that someone understands the raw undescribable pain that comes from ****** assault. If reading this reminded you of yourself, I would strongly recommend writing a letter like this and reading it on those late nights you can't get the flashbacks to stop.
