I am a girl who has been taken advantage of on more than one account. Physically, emotionally, mentally. I am a girl who has spent countless hours screaming out in hopes that someone might hear me. I sometimes find it hard to leave bed – and it’s not that I wish I was dead; for my mother always told me that I am a shining star. Rather, it’s being stuck existing inside my own head. I am a girl who flinches at any unknown touch. I am tired of fighting.
Kids will often whine and cry if they don’t get what they want, but I, I tremble and weep because I received a haunting tale that I did not want, one that I will always carry with me. It is not a matter of ‘somebody always has it worse.’ It is a matter of a huge issue that has no meaning to this world. It is angry, sad, sorrowful. It is something I never could have imagined. Boys will NOT just be boys. I fear the men and women that let this chilling phrase slip out of their mouths: they are one of them.
I often wonder ‘why me’. But this is not how I should be viewing my trauma. It did not stunt my growth, for it made me stronger. I wouldn’t love as wholly as I do. I am not praising my trauma. I am acknowledging it, accepting it. After all, it is a part of me, and I would not be who I am had life’s map been different. Running from my trauma does not make it real.
I am more than a month-long one night stand. I am more than the lack of consent that was present that night. I am more than instant regret and constant fear. I am not the girl who was molested, raped or the like. I am more than my trauma. But I am no more or less of a person because of it. I am Samantha, I am a Scorpio, I am open-hearted, I am a writer and a lover. I am strong willed. I love learning. I am a survivor.
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