I had a dream that I've had before~
and in it, my father is fucking me, fucking me, and I am insane; I am running to friends saying "something is wrong, I feel it and I can't shake it, what is happening to me?" and then I remember, my father and I had sex, he wanted to show me how it could be done right, and I agreed, so it's partially my fault. He couldn't keep it up, and I kept wondering what was wrong with the situation, but I let it continue and let my father stick his wrinkly Pepperidge-farm sausage dick in me. It smells sickly and wet.
End dream, and I don't remember it until later in the day. I tell my friends and they don't seem to realize how upsetting this is to me. It's not like I think this is a memory, but why don't they understand how I feel?
I realize why I had this dream, and realizing why doesn't help. At the same time I fear I don't know the real reason why; that the real reason is staring me in the face and there's nothing I can do but swallow it eventually.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
love/hate
An old friend of mine violated a girl I used to love/hate.
And it makes me think. It reminds me of old feelings. Bubbling on top is anger-- at those who say the lady I love/hated is lying. Well, I say "say," but this is (city) and people don't say things here-- they imply things. I have been hearing some heavy implications that my love/hate-lady is at fault somehow, for being sexed upon without permission.
I see and hear all these reactions from people, and I wonder (not necessarily about them, but I wonder), are the statistics I have heard true? Have nine out of ten women been sexually abused before the age of consent in the US? Because nine out of ten women certainly act that way.
And how many men, I wonder? It seems to me that in order to impose something as horrible as rape on another, another must have imposed something as horrible as rape on the perpetrator.
But we don't talk about that. It's too painful; too difficult. Even I'm hiding. I'm scared to talk.
Another human being has been molested, and all I can think of is my own incest.
And it makes me think. It reminds me of old feelings. Bubbling on top is anger-- at those who say the lady I love/hated is lying. Well, I say "say," but this is (city) and people don't say things here-- they imply things. I have been hearing some heavy implications that my love/hate-lady is at fault somehow, for being sexed upon without permission.
I see and hear all these reactions from people, and I wonder (not necessarily about them, but I wonder), are the statistics I have heard true? Have nine out of ten women been sexually abused before the age of consent in the US? Because nine out of ten women certainly act that way.
And how many men, I wonder? It seems to me that in order to impose something as horrible as rape on another, another must have imposed something as horrible as rape on the perpetrator.
But we don't talk about that. It's too painful; too difficult. Even I'm hiding. I'm scared to talk.
Another human being has been molested, and all I can think of is my own incest.
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