I think it's gonna be a cold winter, little but not a lot of snow. It's just a feeling I have, an unbiased and general feeling. Like a gut feeling. I hope I'm wrong though. I don't want to freeze my ass off for 3 months no matter what I do, I just don't. I don't look forward to anything related to winter anymore. Not snow, not Christmas, not New Years and definitely not Valentine's Day. Winter will just be a 3 months long nightmare this time.
And I will almost get to celebrate that 10th Valentine's Day, but miss it with about half a year, as it's the 9th anniversary this upcoming February. 9 long years will have passed, I can't fathom it. Will I ever be able to survive on that day and the weeks around it? Will I ever be able to just let go and realise that memories can't hurt me? No... I don't think so. I think I'll get myself drunk, take all the pills I have, smoke 6 packs of cigarettes, cut myself and starve myself for the last time that day. Because then there will be no more Valentine's Days.
I only have one such left to go through, and I smile a bitter sweet smile. Sweet because it's the last fucking time, but bitter because I never actually got over what happened to me that day almost 9 years ago. It still cuts me open, it still makes me bleed. And I can't cry anymore for what he did to me, but at least, one huge thing, is that his name no longer has a bad ring to it. I thank K for that, as they share the same name.
And although loving K doesn't make me love his name, it does make me not hate it anymore. I think that's a huge thing. Also, come to think of it, one of my worst bullies during elementary school also had that name. It's been ringing bad in my ears for so many years it's not so strange that I was conflicted when I fell for K. But love knows no limits and a name is just a name.
Sometimes I wish I could see him again, the guy who hurt me almost 9 years ago, but I have no idea what I would say to him. Or if I would just beat him to the ground, or share a coffee with him over small talk. I'm a complicated being. I would want for his life to be so awful and horrible by now and I would love to just laugh at him for whatever mess he would have gotten into. I remember he was extremely homophobic. I would just love to see the look on his face if he saw me now and realised, that he actually raped another guy. Now that, would be priceless.
I still think about what happened. Not very often and rarely in detail, but I get glimpses of the event. It went on for several hours so it's always something that follows me around. Sometimes I can't sleep if it's haunting me at night, other times I can't focus on what I'm doing if it's haunting me during the day. I don't get nightmares however, and no real flashbacks. Just glimpses of an old memory that always lingers.
I don't think I'll ever be able to accept it, or move on. I'll just keep thinking and writing about it without really getting anywhere. I've said all I can say about it, but I can't stop saying it. Over and over it repeats in my head, the same and only event. It was the first and the last time I saw him, but we had been in contact via internet and phone calls for months before. He was the first person I found online and followed home. Bad mistake, why did I repeat it?
I had had some, but not complete sexual experiences before I met him. He was my first time and no matter how I twist and turn it, it was that way without a doubt. And I'm sure I've gone over this before and over again, but that is not a good way to lose your virginity. The damage on my heart is permanent, I know that now, it's a wound that can never heal.
So I'll celebrate the 9th and last anniversary this upcoming February, with all the tears I can muster. I won't keep it a secret to anyone anymore, what good does that even do? I was raped and it's something I've just had to live with. I might even tell my shrink, when that time draws more near, cause all she knows is that something bad happened. And I think she could have guessed her way to what it was, but I never told her and she never asked.
Recovery... I don't think it's for broken people. And I've been shattered so many times I've lost count. Now I'm just waiting for my time to come, cause it doesn't get any better than this. I knew already years ago that 2014 was gonna be the best year of my life and I was right. It can't get better than this, cause my heart isn't in it, in anything, anymore. I'm just too broken to function, I've given up, stopped fighting. Now the only thing I fight for is losing weight and I will also fight for my right to lose weight beyond what is healthy. I believe it's my last, or one of my last, fights.
I don't have much strength left and I will only get weaker. My mind may be powerful, but this body can't last forever in this state. I have a prophecy to fulfill and it's going to be fulfilled no matter what. I'm getting more and more ready by the day. It has felt as if I've been living on borrowed time for a long while now, I'm not sure why. But I've always had that sensation that I'm not completely done yet, with life, but slowly and steadily I'm getting all the more done. Like, you know that feeling when you sit up late at night knowing you have to go to bed, but you're just not done with the day that's been yet? That feeling.
Through every suicide attempt and suicidal episode, I've had that feeling, but now... I don't know. It's like I'm reading the last pages of a book or summarising the last chapters of a book I've written. Like I just know I'm actually close to the end this time. It's a strange and sometimes a bit overwhelming feeling, but it doesn't feel bad. It's like I'm longing for that last and final sigh that suddenly doesn't seem so very far away. I have lived, not for long, but I truly have lived. And I'm still living, I still am.
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