I was trying to find or think of a photo or a meme or a gif to include, but I just gave up and wanted to start typing. This could be long.

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Ten years ago, ten years ago in November, early November 2006, to be specific, I was raped. These are my ramblings. Because I think of the little details sometimes. I don’t know where to put them or what to do with them.

I was drunk. I had a nice boyfriend. I was not raped by that boyfriend. No, I was raped by a fellow college student at an off campus party house. He lived there. He was quiet, didn’t frequently participate in the gatherings besides dealing various drugs and smoking pot. He had a lot of pimples. He was tall. His room was disgusting. The house was disgusting. The toilet didn’t work, so everyone went outside. The door to his room was off its hinges. The kitchen was condemnable. I had done some coke that night.

I don’t even remember what I drank that night. I wasn’t of age. I was 20. Most of us weren’t 21. It was a Thursday night. He wasn’t drinking, or if he was, he was hiding it. We were on the back porch with some friends, smoking cigarettes. He offered me a pill. Aderrall? Oxy? I don’t know. I took it. I got very woozy. I wanted to sit down but there was nowhere to sit. He said we could sit in his room and smoke. I woke up and he was on top of me and he was about to finish. I don’t know if he used a condom. I waited til he passed out, then grabbed my things (I never found my bra) and I looked in his wallet. I was mad. So I took sixty dollars and left. I walked straight to the store and bought three packs of cigarettes. Then I went home and fell apart.

I mentioned it once. ONCE, to a mutual friend, that I thought maybe what happened could have been rape. Everyone made fun of me. A lot. This was in the days of AIM, so I remember some vague rape blamey away messages being up in the next few days. If u don’t wanna get raped don’t get drunk, amirite??

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I never saw those people again. I transferred away from that school the very next semester. The week after I was raped, I gathered all the materials and sent in my application. I was lucky- I had been accepted to that school just the year before so somehow the process was simple and quick.

After this rape, and after I was made fun of for suggesting possibly that’s what it was, I felt so much shame and self hate. How could I have done this? So typical me. Stupid. I deserved it. What was I thinking? If I’m being honest, sometimes I still think these things. Very rarely. But I love hearing it wasn’t my fault. So.. It wasn’t my fault!!!! ???

This rape, this rape was just the hair that broke the camel’s back. See, I was already on the edge. Lost, depressed. When I was a child, I was sexually abused by a close (direct?) family member. My parents didn’t believe me, and life went on. It fucked with me. Growing up, my house was..... Chaotic. Loud, drunken ramblings and fights. Dad taking off for days at a time. Parents drunk or passed out when it was time to go to school. I did a lot of hiding back then. So, this rape. Like, what? When it happened, I remember thinking, ok.... But I thought I was done with crappy stuff being done to me. Also shame. Lots of shame.

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I didn’t call it rape for 7 years. I mentioned it to a therapist shortly after it happened and she suggested I just forget about it. I tried. But... Here I am.

Ten years later. Here I am. I matter. I am not just some body you can do things to. My existence is not a joke. This isn’t some triumph story. Yes, I am successful. Yes, I have faced my past and my demons. Yes, I went through hell and wanted to die. It has been hard. So hard.

Also, you bet your ass I’ve googled that asshole numerous times. Is that healthy for me? Probably not. But hey, I’ve been seeing the same awesome therapist for over two years and I’m on antidepressants and I have made so much progress! He’s a successful business person. Fuck. I hope he goes bankrupt.

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If you stayed this long, thank you. It was therapeutic to get this out.