Even writing this, I feel weak, ashamed and stupid.
I was bashed and raped a few years ago by a stranger at the public toilets in the city one night.
Ever since then, I’ve just felt broken and lonely. I just feel so tired. It’s like I’m wearing this mask – pretending to be that happy, funny and friendly person that everyone likes. It’s just hard and I can feel the mask slipping and slipping.
I’m trying to be strong but all I want to do it grab my old friend the pocket knife and cut. I even cleaned the knife in boiling water…
He killed me that night. I’m not who I used to be. I never will be. He’s taken everything away from me.
2 comments
Please don’t. The scars will only serve as a reminder.
You don’t have to be who you were but I hope you find yourself in there. If I could be a serial killer it’s bastards like that I would hunt.