Stumble

About the time he showed up in the middle of the night.

I stumbled.

I was paralyzed in fear,

But when I finally got the courage to move,

I stumbled.

The inability to move

Is something I've known before

I could use it to my advantage,

Keep an angry face and it seems strong.

But to stumble when

I needed to stand tall.

I felt so weak

With every shaky step.

I didn't hesitate in my hits

No more than I felt polite consideration

But they didn't land right

And I couldn't throw them the way I wanted.

My body was shaking

Starting deep in my bones

And working out to my skin,

I couldn't take a step.

I was in control,

I was strong,

I was all I should be.

I was so scared.

Nothing would happen,

I knew that for sure.

But I didn't know if I could be

All I needed to be.

I needed to be strong,

But I couldn't be the bad guy,

I had to stand up

But I shouldn't fight.

I could do that.

I did that.

But I stumbled.

I was shaking so hard I stumbled.

My vision was blurry

I only wanted to take a few steps.

I couldn't see where I was going

My body shook until I ran into things.

I can't show weakness,

But how can I stand tall

When I can't stand at all?

I must stay strong.

I stumbled.

I didn't let that stop me,

I didn't let it make me weak.

But I know I stumbled.

The Time I Punched Someone

I'm not sure what to say about the time I punched him.
I was on Skype with my best friend, laying on my bed in my bra and short shorts because my room gets nice and warm. I was still wearing my favorite half-finger gloves, for the first time in over a year I'd gotten to use my punching bag again, unfortunately since it was the first time in awhile I threw a punch wrong and ended up with a sensitive knuckle that felt much nicer with the gloves on.

I was only using my punching bag again in fear that he might be crazy enough to show up. I was terrified of him, he'd never been violent before but I could see he wasn't right in the head. It was a funny coincidence (if you believe in such thing) that he chose to show up that night.

I kinda froze, I tried to convince myself the sounds outside my room were only my large dogs moving around, I'd been scared a few night's because I'd hear them. But this time was different. I recognized the sound too much to say it was something else, though I still hadn't convinced myself it wasn't just my dad. I sat up and positioned laptop so my friend on Skype could see the room clearly.

The door was pushed open, I still wasn't sure if it was my dad or not. If it was I'd feel embarrassed to be caught on Skype late at night with a boy, only wearing my bra and shorts. But it wasn't and I was kinda thankful for that, but I was paralyzed in fear.

He walked in, saying "Hi" shyly and causing my stomach to drop. It still took another endless second to be sure it was him as he stepped into the light. I could not move. 

He smiled at me like he was supposed to be there, and then glared at my laptop. My friend was asking what was going on, so I turned to him with a plastered on smile and with an almost sarcastic calm I introduced them.

Shadow Prison

This is a drawing that my friend titled Shadow Prison for me.

The dark shadow above ground will always represent my rapist, and I'm usually the only other in the drawing, but in this one I have two shadows comforting my shadow. I can't explain well what's going on in this, but if I'm asked I will try. It was a complicated thought, even while drawing it.

Common details in my drawings that might not be too clear:

• Shadow man is my rapist (surprise, I already said that)
• I'm the girl in the dress (I really like dresses)
• There's cracks in the earth or paper or whatever
• These cracks have barbed wire reaching out of them and around me
• Often times I'll leave a shadow of blood where the barbed wire touches me.

That is all.

The Balloon

(A long poem.)

It floated so softly at the top of the rocks,
The green balloon,
It seemed to me it was meant to be,
Green is my favorite color, this must be my balloon.

So I stepped on the rocks and climbed,
I may have scrapped my hand,
But I got my balloon.
Free from the rocks, it floated so beautify.

And the soft wind spun it around me,
Made me laugh and laugh,
I climbed back down the rocks,
And I danced with my pretty green balloon.

The wind picked up,
The balloon tugged on its string,
It whispered 'come along'
So I followed it, dancing in the breeze.

A Brief Overview

I ramble, I'm not a very brief person, but today I will be.

Things That Changed Because I Was Raped

• I got used to begging often
• I learned to block out what happens to me
• Or I tried to anyway
• I figured out how to go from feeling nothing to fake laughing and being able to pretend I feel human within seconds
• I discovered promises mean nothing
• And the more times the same one is made the less likely it is to mean something
• I found out my rapist didn't care if I gave no response at all
• (Even though he tried to call what was happening sex, which implies enjoyment for both)
• And ignored it if I responded with "Stop"
• Or pushed more if I said "wait" (Apparently "wait" actually means "convince me")
• I realized that "Stop" only resulted in being told to "Calm down" or to "Trust me", because, of course, you should trust the guy who's refusing to stop when you ask.
• I memorized walls

The memorizing walls was the worst for me. I tried to focus on the details of walls around me, so that what