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This will be written in pieces. I keep myself together as best I can using rubber bands. |
| Scars of Time You leeched off of my life force, Stalking my mind, Burrowing in like a worm Looking for vulnerabilities Which I freely displayed In trust. In all my naivety I thought I could confide in you But you spread me apart, took what you desired And left me naked and barren Ashamed of myself Ashamed of my entire being. Yet, Throughout it all I continued to wear A facade of agreeableness Singing soft-spoken melodies. While you invaded my being. You laughed with your friends at my expense While I continued to carry you. To care. I allowed you to take advantage Because I had not yet healed From my own traumas. Wounds so deep and fresh They were still bleeding. My pain pouring out onto the floor. Spilling out all of my insecurities The pieces of me that had been torn up; Ripped and shredded and scattered By those who came before you Who also violated me. Who raped my soul and kept on taking Scraping away at me inside. Left me in pain. Burning and full of shame for just trying to survive. One of you gave me an empty bottle. Silent Sam left in a window frame1 You shoved it between my legs as a token of kindness To cool and soothe the burning pain. So raw, so exposed. I felt like I was bleeding I felt like I was dying inside And now, There remain pieces of me So deeply scarred by time Yet, still, I carry on.2 Silent Sam reference note: Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada Rooming house on Barclay St3 in the West End of downtown Vancouver. 1997. You know who the fuck you are. Shane V with vitiligo. You and your "proud Aryan blood" and superiority. You fucked up more than just me. You did the same thing to my friend and Lord knows how many others. You were a full grown adult at 27 years of age. We were children. #writing #Reality #facts #truth #factsmatter Link to my Instagram for more details. https://www.instagram.com/p/ClXwi3HrG5x/?igshid=OTJlNzQ0NWM= **My Instagram post that correlates to this contains screenshots of a text message conversation I had with my aunt. I noted that there was one evening I was passed across the hall to a 28 year old; he was the stunt double for Wil Wheaton from Star Trek:TNG. I can't recall his name, perhaps it was also Will, I am not 100% sure... but I absolutely remember every fucking detail of that disgusting encounter and it still makes me want to fucking vomit. Why the fuck did you fucking assholes need a 16 year old girl to blow your fucking load in and on? Do you do it for the thrill? Is it a power trip? Or do y'all just like fucking children and babies so much because we're easier to control at that age and less likely to be capable of firmly asserting and expressing ourselves, less likely to speak and voice our discomfort and tell you that we do not want to go along with your sick and twisted fucking fantasies? When we cry throughout the encounter/experience, does it make you feel powerful? Does it make you feel like a big strong fucking man when you fuck children? Does the act of rape and sexual assault make your dick fucking harder and more erect? Do any of you assholes possess even a tiny shred of a fucking conscience? What the fuck is wrong with you fucking assholes?? Is it just that once we pass the age of 18 years old, we have past our best before date and are no longer of use to you? Why is our world so full of fucking pedophiles? What the fuck is wrong with your demented fucking brains that makes you think it's acceptable to take advantage of children and teens and steal away our fucking innocence? We do not forget. We carry this shit with us for our entire fucking lives! It fucks us up in ways you couldn't even begin to imagine or comprehend, not that you fuckers give two fucking shits about any of that though, do you? We are never the same again after you take advantage of our naivety; how could we ever be or feel the same after such a tragic and dehumanizing experience. Fuck all you fucking pedophiles and your sick fucking business circle of child porn, sex trafficking, and your fucked up worldwide system of control and subjugation via illegal drugs, alcohol, pharmaceuticals, and other methods such as limiting our employment options, among other things. Ya know, I don't believe in the death penalty, but I sure would love the chance to beat the fucking tar out of you disgusting fuckers with a professional baseball bat. That would release just a tiny bit of my inner rage. I think it would be so satisfying to beat you within a inch of your fucking life; praying that you might momentarily feel just a little sliver of the pain that we experienced and get to carry around for our whole fucking lives. And you are most DEFINITELY NOT "minor attracted people" that deserve counseling and kind words. You are nothing but disgusting deviant motherfucking pieces of garbage. You are nothing but utter fucking trash. You don't treat your fucking victims with kindness and you feel zero fucking remorse. You don't fucking deserve kindness and "professional intervention". You deserve to live in fucking squalor and fear for the rest of your miserable existence. You are not human beings; you possess no sense of humanity. You are cold, cruel, and callous creatures. I would like to further note that I believe the death penalty is far too kind for you assholes. There are many punishments that are far worse than death and y'all definitely deserve to experience some extra special treatment in prison, but not the kind y'all are used to receiving once you get incarcerated (which is oddly rare... hmm... wonder why that might be...) You assholes almost always end up in protective custody after you are convicted and tossed in prison. Guess the "justice" system and the prison system is complacent in the world wide human/child/sex/drug/pharmaceutical manufacturing and trafficking scheme. Y'all just fucking scratchin each others backs so you can keep fucking us up the ass while we're children. Fuck you all. After I die, I'm coming back to haunt you all. That's a fuckin promise. This Shane muthafucka who fed me Silent Sam vodka & orange juice started off with the creepy "sex" shit by getting me drunk & asking me for a back massage. I was 16 years old & alone in Vancouver, BC with nowhere else to go so I just did as I was asked. That's all that happened at first. Then, he wanted to give me a massage to be "nice" & reciprocate the "kindness". I was uncomfortable with the whole thing, but again, I was alone in the city with nowhere to go so I was too scared to say no. I didn't know anyone in Vancouver other than this "man" & I hadn't been living there long enough to know that there were places I could go to. Anyhow, the massage quickly moved to him sticking his hands between my crotch, even as I squeezed my legs shut tightly, that didn't matter. He kept pushing & telling me to relax, he wasn't going to do anything. But that was all bullshit. It progressed from there & I just disassociated myself from each experience by staring at the ceiling or elsewhere & just emotionally "removing myself" from the situation. That was the only thing I knew how to do. I had already done it before with traumatic situations as a kid & most of the previous "sexual encounters" I had experienced before. This was not the first time I had squeezed my legs together tight to try & stop things from progressing further with a guy. It never works, at least, it never did for me. I remember he told me he had previously worked for the porn industry & was trying to get back into it. He bragged about his penis a lot. He had these big metal rings he used to use & told me they made him last longer. It was already painful without them, it burned badly & often felt like something was bleeding inside me, but the metal rings made it even worse. I just wanted it to be over with quickly but it never was, especially with these stupid fucking rings. I remember early on when he started using them it felt like something tore & it was super uncomfortable & it felt like I had blood pouring down my leg from inside. It hurt a lot. I fucking hate him. 6 May 2024 People always say to not bring baggage into a relationship, but you cannot just remove aspects of yourself that make you who you are. It is not possible to erase the past and pretend you have not experienced pain or trauma. Many of us have been told to be ashamed of ourselves and ashamed of what we allowed to happen. Many of us have been told that it was our fault for getting abused or raped because we put ourselves into those situations and we should have known better. But many of us were too young to realize what "kind of situation" we were going into because we were so trusting of others and never imagined that other people would ever hurt us in such unimaginable ways or treat us so poorly, especially after we had treated those same people with kindness and understanding and even tried to help them with their own pain or trauma or struggles. Since I was raped and sexually violated by Shane when I was barely 16 years old, I have never felt "normal" in any sexual encounter or relationship. I feel like I am a child performing for an adult and just imitating and acting like I have been instructed and indoctrinated to. When I put on clothes designed to be sexy and make women feel sexy and powerful, I just feel like a child putting on the clothes of an adult woman. I feel uncomfortable. I feel like I am putting on a costume or clothes from my mother's closet, or my auntie's closet and playing dress-up. It feels foreign. It doesn't make me feel like an empowered female. It makes me feel like a child expected to perform for a man and act and say and do things that made me so uncomfortable and sick and I did them because I was afraid to say no. I thought I had to do those things. I had to be complacent and go along with it all, even though I resisted by squeezing my legs together, and shying away from being touched, and other more "passive" ways of resistance. I was afraid to use my voice and say no for a couple of weeks, but then when I realized that this was going to continue and be expected of me every day, I finally found my voice through my tears, which I tried so hard to keep silent, but I couldn't and I finally asked for him to stop. I said no, please stop, it's hurting, because it hurt so bad. I was raw and swollen and in so much pain I could barely walk. He thought it was funny and joked about it to Will and the other guy we sometimes met for coffee with at Blenz on Davie and Bute. He actually laughed at me being in so much pain I could hardly walk from him jamming his oversized penis into me. Over 2 inches around and then he would put those fucking metal rings from his leather jacket on. He would put one at the base of his penis and the other one halfway down so it would be a big ridge of cold metal that he said would make it better for me, and more pleasurable, it's but every thrust he took was so painful and it burned and hurt so bad. I remember how much it hurt when I felt the ring around his penis rubbing up against my pubic bone. It was maybe the 2nd or 3rd time when he put the rings on that I felt something in the left side of my vaginal canal "pop", like he had burst some important tendon or ligament and it felt odd and different and like there was some sort of liquid running down my vagina and then out and down my leg. He carried on thrusting and it always took quite awhile for him to "finish" so when that occcured I don't know what the liquid looked like or what exactly it was. I often would wait for the bathroom down the hall to be available afterwards so I could get clean, but it wasn't always available as the whole ground floor shared the one bathroom. It was a rooming house on Barclay St and everyone shared thenone bathroom down the hall. It had a toilet and an old-fashioned style bathtub. I always ended up raw and chaffed and all he did was keep a two six bottle of Silent Sam on the windowsill to try and "cool" the glass bottle and then he would stick it between my legs to soothe the pain between "sessions". He said he needed a lot of sex and might have even called himself a sex addict. I know he said he used to work in the porn industry and they liked him because of the large circumference of his penis. He would often rape.me more than once a day. He shoved my head towards his penis more than once and got me to perform oral sex on him. I hated the way it felt in my mouth like I was choking because it was so big. And he had some sort of lump or wart on his penis and I hated the way it felt in my tongue, like a dried chunk or skin that kept passing in and out as he had my head in his hands and "guided" my head and face to perform this non-consensual act of "sex" with a minor. When I was 19 and 20 years old, I had similar sexual experiences. I just felt like I was doing what was expected of me. A sexual performance. I rarely had sex without consuming alcohol (or drugs, but usually just alcohol) beforehand as it was easier to "perform" and not feel so uncomfortable and ashamed and embarrassed. My old roommate did the same thing as Shane when were no longer dating and he wanted sex. He would always initiate things. I just wanted plutonic intimacy, like a brother or an uncle would hug his sister or his niece or a friend would hold your hand or put their arm.around your shoulder or even let you rest your head on their lap.during a movie without overtones/connotations of anything physical or sexual was expected to occur. Even when I would pull away or shy away by moving my head away, he would eventually undo his belt and/or his pants and forcefully push my head into his crotch. I pushed back and resisted quite hard sometimes, but he just kept pushing my face and head to his crotch and expected me to perform oral sex on him. I did not receive any kind of oral, vaginal, or digital penetration in return. He didn’t want to risk getting me pregnant so he just used me for oral sex. He also used to say he "felt bad" that I didn't "get anything" out of these encounters and on more than one occasion he asked me if I wanted him to fuck me with a banana or a cucumber. I politely declined his oh so "kind offers" of sexual reciprocity. He never gave me money or did anything for me other than once when we were living together he made me lettuce wraps. i did all the cleaning and even had to cover bills and his portion of the rent sometimes. He never paid me back. He often asked me to give and buy him cigarettes and also alcohol from the bar because, agter all, I was a girl so it was easier for me to make the "big bucks" as a waitress. But I wasn't making easy money. i worked 12-16 hours a day and busted my butt as a waitress. I was a shift leader at White Spot and often helped others out with their duties, including kitchen and cleaning staff! My ex-husband was very similar with his approach to 'sex'. It was just expected and owed to him, even though there were many occasions I resisted and moved away from him touching me. There was more than one occasion that I cried while he "had sex" with me while I just stayed still and motionless and stared out the window. I tried to always keep my tears silent. And even when he saw my tears afterwards, he just saw that as something being wrong with me. He always told me how I should go to the doctor and find out why I wasn't interested in sex like him. He said it wasn't normal, but it is normal for someone who has experienced sexual abuse. It is normal to not be comfortable with sexual and physical advances from someone who you don't feel.safe or comfortable with and who doesn't listen and care about you or your needs. He only wanted me to get help so he could have more frequent sex. Like I could just take a pill and that would "make me horny" and want to have sex with him, but I never really wanted to have sex with him. It was always an alcohol induced performance where I was doing as previously instructed and indoctrinated. Doing what a woman is expected to do when a man wants to put his penis inside of her. I didn't just cry on my wedding night, I cried many times. I avoided him, I resisted, I stared out the window and lay there like a dead girl and did not reciprocate any physical touching or acts unless he instructed me to, and then I would ignore him, but then he would persist and get mad so sometimes I would eventually just do what he asked me to do so he would leave me alone for awhile. Mostly, I just lay still and silent and stared off into the diatance and waited for it to be over. Not only was my ex consumed and obsessed with sex and controlling and dictating how often we should have sex and what kind of sex we should have and how we should "spice it up" when all I wanted was to not be with him and not have sex with him, and perhaps with anyone at all ever again. He was so obsessed and consumed with my bathroom habits and what I was "dojng" in the bathroom. He would get upset when I locked the door to urinate or defecate or shower. He would tell me, its just me, I'm your husband, you shouldn't have to lock the door, but it's ok to have privacy in your own home and there is nothing wrong with closing and locking the door to use the toilet or to have a shower. If I took longer than a few minutes he would bang on the door and ask me what I was doing and why I was taking so long, even when he wasn't waiting for me to leave the house with him. He always wanted me to lwave the door open when I went to the toilet or had a shower so he could come in and "see" what I was doing. But most people.dont want to be stared at while they are going to the toilet or having shower and shaving their legs or washing their hair. I never even liked doing that in the ladies changeroom in school or in public pools. I would shower with my swimsuit on and I would always dry off and get changed in a stall. We aren't all comfortable prancing around naked in front of other people, even if they are the same sex as us with the same.body parts. Some of us just don't feel comfortable as it makes us feel exposed and vulnerable. Also, lots of girls are not nice about other girls bodies. So it's not just men who make mean or rude comments. Most women don't continue to be rude about other women’s bodies as they grow up, but preteen girls, teenagers, and even young adult women can be disgustingly cruel and critical about the way other women’s bodies look. So, I have never been one to feel very comfortable changing my clothes in the open or being naked in front of others. Other women seem fine with it. Good for you. I used to work with some girls at Alpine who had naked hot tub parties and sex toy parties. I got invited a few times, but always declined because that is not something I have ever, or will ever, feel comfortable participating in. Call me a prude if you want, I don’t care. It's not for me. I don't do group actiivties such as that. Never have, never will. Footnotes |
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