IT

it always seems to be talked about differently. at night. alone. caught by surprise. it’s never talked about how it went for me today. and maybe that is why i feel it didn’t really happen. that i was just being dramatic. it happened in my room. during the day. when the sun was still shining. people were here. not in my room. but around. closing doors. walking the hallway. and at first i was okay with it. maybe? i mean i felt a little uncomfortable from the start and felt like we shouldn’t but i don’t think i told him that. and everything became so much more so quickly. and i found myself not knowing how to breathe. wanting it to be over. so i cried out for him to stop over and over again – like a fucking broken record. and he repeated “no” and “you like this” and maybe i did? so i tried to enjoy myself… but it didn’t work so i found myself repeating to stop over and over again, again. and again he told me no. and i repeated until finally after about 10 minutes he stopped – annoyed but he stopped. and we just sat there – trying to talk. until he forced me. and i could have been stronger. i could have fought back harder but i was drained and so so tired. i found myself asking him to stop again. to which he said no. and he put his hands around my neck. and i just let it happen after that. i even acted like i enjoyed it at that point just so he could finish. so it could be over with. so no it didn’t happen to me at night – alone or by surprise. it happened because i let someone in my room during the daytime. hoping to talk about life, go on a date, and maybe see what happened after that. it happened with people nearby. i could have screamed for help – but i’m too polite. it happened. but somehow i feel like i am to blame. somehow i feel that it didn’t happen to me. i never wanted this to happen to me.