Can Someone Like Let The Human Body Know That We Don't Die At 40 Anymore? That I And My Family Live In

no but actually though

A porcupine’s Halloween present (+ original sound effects)

Help....

One of my students referred to Zac Efron as "zaddy" and I feel like I should be entitled to financial compensation

TRIGGER WARNING!!!! SA, Depression, self injurious behavior, suicidal tendencies

The hardest part of living with sexual assault is having to continue living. Countless weeks I've spent, fake smiles, pretending everything was normal while I crumbled inside. I've spent every waking moment haunted, feeling unclean, because of the actions a man took once he decided that I owed him my body.

I thought it got easier. It did for a few months. And now I'm back at the campus where it happened. My heart aches everytime I step foot on the sidewalk. I avert my eyes from 2 buildings, where two different men took something that wasnt theirs, something I didnt give them. Their selfish actions did this.

Sometimes all I want to do is scream. I want to scream in the middle of campus what unspeakable things these men have done to me. What they have done to others. Instead I bite my tongue, and duck my head as I continue to walk to class.

The only safe haven on campus is my professor's offices. I've spent many hours sobbing there, receiving advice on work and studying. Now I sob the for a different reason. And now my professors gently gesture for me to enter their office, offering words of comfort and support.

One had a story very similar to mine. On the same campus she was raped, 19, a virgin. I was 18 and 19. She is my hope for the future, my hope that it gets better, my hope for a PhD, because she did it.

I feel sick, everytime I look at something that reminds me of them. I cant be in red lighting. I cant play certain games. I cant hold my boyfriend because I'm afraid of his hands, so gentle and kind, because of the cruel hands of another.

I feel a lot of things. Anger, at them for believing they had the right to do this, and at the world for letting this happen. Angry for trusting them. Angry at them for using me as a plaything, disregarding my humanity. Sorrow for the loss of my innocence, and for all the pieces of myself I lost.

Sometimes I feel like I'm shards of myself stuck in my old body. In reality, I should be fragmented, broken, but instead I stand, eyes down, hiding my broken pieces, and posing as someone who isn't hurting.

I want to say this because it happened to me. I want to say this because it's real. I want to say this because it can happen to others. I'm sick of staying quiet and allowing my rapists to ultimately win as I break down and get swept away by the wind. I am more than a statistic. No means no. Being pushed, pressured, or coerced into saying yes means no. Being inebriated means no.

Please stay safe. Always travel in groups. Let your friends know where you are at and with whom.