What I remember. it was supposed to be this big night out...my roommate and I had been planning it for days. Our favorite club was having a huge Valentine's Day event that Saturday and we had friends coming into Gainesville from Miami, Orlando, Ft Lauderdale and Jacksonville. The night came. We each drank a wine cooler at the apartment and then I drove us to the club. The last thing I remember is following my roommate back to the dance floor after getting our 3rd drinks. I remember looking at the back of her head...she has this long, flowing black hair that hung straight down past her waist...and I didn't want to lose her in the crowd. Then...suddenly...it's total blackness.

The police tell me that my drink must have been spiked with at least 4 mgs of rohypnol. Just 2 mgs mixed with alcohol is enough to put a girl flat on her back within 10 minutes and the sedation can last 8 hours or more. The police said I was lucky it didn't kill me...sometimes, I wish it had. I have no memory of the next few hours. I don't know what I did, who I spoke to, or what happened to me. I only remember sitting on a floor at some point and hearing a voice say "if she doesn't open her eyes we need to call a paramedic." I remember thinking to myself, "you better open your eyes, girl, or they're going to send you to the hospital" but I couldn't...I couldn't even open my eyes.

The next thing I remember is one of the bouncers from the club throwing me out the door. They didn't like people overdosing at the club...an ambulance parked at the front door is bad publicity and besides, it brings the police. I can't blame them, really, they just thought I was another customer strung out on heroin...little did they know that someone had drugged me or what was about to happen next.

I hit the pavement I could barely walk...I remember concentrating as hard as I could, one foot in front of the other. About 20 feet away was the intersection of the two busiest streets in downtown Gainesville. There were people everywhere...leaving clubs, walking to their cars...dozens of people. I looked up and waited for the light to change so I could cross the street. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a white car pull up a few feet away. A large man got out and walked as if to pass me. Suddenly, I felt someone behind me, his arms around my waist as he lifted me into the air. I yelled and we struggled, both falling to the ground. I felt my head hit the concrete and then, again, total blackness.

I don't know how many hours passed before I woke up. When I did, I was completely disoriented and confused. I had no idea where I was...I opened my eyes and it was pitch black, I couldn't see anything. There was a large man on top of me. It was freezing cold and my clothes were missing. I panicked and began to cry. Struggling off the mattress, I pulled my clothes together but couldn't find my shoes. There was a faint light through a small window in what appeared to be a door...I scrambled towards it and fumbled for a way out. Then a voice - "what the hell," and he came towards me. I couldn't see his face...he was just this big shadow charging towards me.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me away from the door. "Where are you going?" he demanded. I began to sob. I told him I didn't know where I was...I didn't know who he was...I told him I needed to leave and find my roommate. He told me that he had seen me standing at the intersection and that there was a "large group of men" harassing me. He said he came and saved me from them. He told me I was "lucky" he got there because otherwise, they might have raped me. I told him I didn't remember any "group of men" harassing me, that all I remembered was falling when he grabbed me. He said that was because one of the men had tackled him and he fought them off to "save me."

My memories of that night are patchy, but I do know this...there was no group of men harassing me at the intersection that night. There was only me, a girl who was alone, a girl who had been drugged...and him, the man who kidnapped me off that street in front of dozens of other people who did nothing. The man who claimed to be my savior spent the next 4-5 hours raping and beating me as I pled for my life. Somehow, "Good Samaritan" is not the first word that comes to mind when I think of him.

For the next several hours, I did what I thought I had to in order to survive. I remember in excruciating detail everything about him. The way his breath was hot and insistent on my neck...the smell of sweat and beer oozing from his pores. How strong his arms were...the sound of his voice yelling at me...how sharp the stubble on his face was when it up brushed against my face as we struggled...the taste when he forced his mouth down upon mine.

When he was awake he would alternate between being verbally abusive by threatening me, but when I would cry, he seemed to feel guilty and would try to comfort me. He stroked my hair and kissed my face, telling me how beautiful I was and how he just wanted to be with me. I was living minute by minute...gauging his reactions, trying to read him...my mind was racing trying to find a way, any way, to get out alive. He controlled my very existence...held my life in his hands. He told me repeatedly that he would kill me "if I wasn't careful," and I believed him.

At one point, I completely lost it. I went again for the door, determined to get out now or die trying. I felt the handle and pulled...nothing. He leapt up after me and knocked me to the ground...this time there was no controlling his rage. He was kicking me in the stomach repeatedly, saying I told you not to do that, I told you...he kicked me so hard that I began to throw up.

He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me back towards the mattress. I was kicking and screaming, but it made no difference. The police report I have lists him as 6 foot 2 inches and at 220 pounds, he weighed twice as much as I did. He raped me again...how many times he raped me that night I'll never know for sure...while I was conscious there was 3 times that I remember, and I know he raped me at least once while I was unconscious. I made the decision then that this was the last time. I had no reason to think he would keep his word to let me go. At that point, he had more to lose if he did...I knew his name, his address, I could identify him now that I had seen his face. I realized then that he had no reason NOT to kill me.

I was hysterical, sobbing and begging him to let me go. I told him anything I could think of...that my roommate would be looking for me...that my car was parked outside the club and she would know something was wrong when I didn't come home...that I was her ride and she would call the police...that surely people had seen him throw me into the car. I screamed as loud as I could, even though I knew no one would hear me. At first, he was irrational and screamed back at me...I can't let you go...you'll tell...look what you made me do...I just wanted to be with you but now look what's happened and no one will understand. But eventually he got off me and began pacing back and forth inside the RV, leaving me curled him in a ball on the floor.

He was talking to himself, not making any sense, but I saw something in his eyes...was it doubt or maybe guilt? I saw the opportunity to turn things around and I took it. Somehow, I found it in myself to calm down. Maybe my crying was making him more agitated, I thought, maybe I need to reason with him. I wiped my tears and took a deep breath. I told him not to be upset, everything was going to be okay. I told him that I wasn't angry with him, that he had just scared me and I really needed to get home.

He said, "I can't let you leave, you'll tell them what I did, and look at you, you're a mess." I found a rag and wiped the blood and vomit off my face and straightened my clothes. I told him, "no, look at me, I'm fine. I'm not hurt." I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, that it was okay. There was a change in his eyes...he believed me.

He agreed to let me go if I would promise to have lunch with him later that day. I bit my tongue, put on my best smile, and said "sure, that sounds fine." He told me to write down my phone number and even suggested we go by his mother's house for lunch so she could meet me. I began to panic as I was getting ready to write down a phone number...I didn't want him to know my real number, but what if I wrote a fake one and he called it to make sure it was mine before letting me leave? I wrote the numbers slowly as he stood over my shoulder, watching...379-5759...I changed the last digit and figured if he called it, I could claim it was a 5. It worked. He took the piece of paper my number was written on and carefully put it into his wallet. He picked up a flannel shirt off the floor and put it over my shoulders. "Here, it's cold outside, put this on."

He opened the door and every cell in my body wanted to just run, but he was watching. He took my hand and led me to the car. "Your shoes are inside," he said, "I couldn't carry you in last night and grab your shoes." He stood next to me waiting for me to get into the car. I wanted to run but I couldn't...I was too scared. Five hours with this man and I was so close to getting away, I was terrified of ruining it by making him angry before I knew for certain I could get away. My heart sank as I got into the car. He drove for about a mile until we came to a red light. Now was my chance. I swung open the car door and ran...ran like I never ran before...ran for my life and didn't look back.

My car was just a few blocks away. I didn't have the keys because they were in my purse which had been left in the club. Luckily, I always kept the back hatch unlocked and a spare key in the glove box. I popped the hatch open, climbed inside, and locked the door behind me. Only then did I look back - he was gone. Inside my car, I felt safe. A strange calm came over me as I drove home. I thought the worst was over.

The police found him easily, and after he failed a lie detector test, he was arrested. He eventually pled no contest to lesser charges and served 18 months in jail. When I tell my story to other rape survivors, they always ask me if it was worth it. Many of them are in the process of deciding for themselves whether or not they want to press charges. I have no answer for them...I don't know.

The man who raped me controlled my entire life...not just on the night when he kept me in that horrible RV, but for the 8 months afterwards as he manipulated the legal system. It was a nightmare, emotionally draining...but I was determined not to let that man beat me again. In the end, did I win? The court case, I guess, if you can consider 18 months in jail for what he did to me as winning. All I can say is, if I hadn't done it, I would never know.

It's been almost three years now and my life will never be the same. After the court case was over, I packed up my things and moved 3,000 miles away to California. I wanted to leave what happened to me back in Gainesville. It didn't work.

I'm just now beginning to accept that affect the rape has had on who I am. It affects all my relationships. It affects the way I see myself and the world around me. I used to say "I lost God in Gainesville," because I felt like being raped destroyed my identity.

It's taken a long time for me to understand that my identity is still there...it's just different. The rape is now a part of my identity, it has been incorporated into all the other things that make me, ME. I can't eliminate it from who I am, I can only try to embrace it.

I guess that is how you heal....

Laura Hartley
I Sang Holy Holy

Ive decided that i am strong enough to tell my story in detail, that i am no longer afraid or ashamed...it is time.I chose to remember little about that brief span of time. I do not remember his thrusts or his entry. i do remember fear, fear itself is such apowerful emotion. i remember the metal handcuffs biting into the flesh of my wrists, the burning of my broken skin. i do remember crying no over and over again as if it, the word itself could save me from the savage look in his eyes.That look that brought fear into me before. I had only seen glimpses of it before whenever rage filled him, during arguments or plain physical aggression. My limbs shook with fear, as i was shoved forward onto his bed, my hands powerless, this shaking consumed me as much as the fear had. Oddly enough i remember it was a bright day with a beautiful sunset later, as though to remind me not everything is evil. I distinctly remember how his room was lit and at that time it was filled with shadows, yet everything outside remained hushed and tranquil. Was it possible for anyone outside to realize that someone's soul was being destroyed. The dress i wore that day was a summer one with brown, tan, and white patterened flowers, with a cream fuzzy sweater over it to keep me worn. i recall the sweater being taken off before the handcuffs, my dress being roughly lifted, my panties being ripped from my body. Then pushed forward onto the bed, there is little else to be remembered, somehow my memory fails me. i know later that night i called a friend, who i thought would help me, only to later recieve a phone call from him saying i was trying to make her jealous. Precious friend she was. Later that night i was filled with rage and guilt and expressed it with a razor blade. From my breasts to my pelvis hundreds of slashes. For a long time i allowed him to manipulate and torment me because of what i thought was love. What did i really know of such a concept? That day i had no word for what had taken place, he was my best friend, my lover. He changed me. He was the final close to my childhood and girlish romantic notions, i was never going to be the same. It took me years to throw away everything that i totally connected to him, everything that i could no longer tolerate to look at. Letters tokens of affection- gone. i wish now that i had burned them. It took me years to cut all ties with him. From him i recieved all that i thought was love, something missing from my childhood i guess, but along with came being punched,kicked, strangled and shoved. The ironic thing is, occaisionally a mutal friend would witness such a thing,yet none of them belived me that such things occured...let alone that he raped me. After i left him, my final year of high school was filled with nasty letters and all sorts of events that pushed me quite far into isolation. For example one day, after he had found out i basically accused him of stalking me to someone, he walked behind me in an empty hallway whispering im stalking you, im stalking you than once the hallways filled he continued to follow me and started screaming at me that i was a whore and a bitch and people just watched. For anyone reading this who is in a similiar situation i want you to know you are not alone,despite what so-called friends say. Most of mine said i that i was over reacting or i provoked the way he treated me (he actually told me that once himself),or i was crazy because he was so nice to everyone else. No one could imagine him acting in such a way. No one is alone, no one deserves to go through this shit alone. NO ONE asks for this and no one deserves it. i believed those lies for awhile and i want to try to prevent someone else from believing them as well.

HEAVEN26@aol.com

My name is Laura and I am currently 23 years old. I was born in January in 1977. My story starts when I was 13 years old and in the ninth grade. I had a pretty bad crowd that I hung out with and one night I went to the mall with them without my mom knowing, she thought I was out with a "nice girl" that she knew. I was dressed in the tightest jeans I could find and the lowest cut shirt in my closet. After walking around the mall for a little while this man approached me and started talking. I left my friends and went off with him to walk around the mall. He was so nice, good-looking, and old. he was 21, and he was showing interest in me. In my crowd that was the goal to have a boyfriend who was much older than you. He bought me little diamond earrings by the end of the night at one of the cheap jewelry stores at the mall. I was thrilled. When he asked if he could drive me home I didn’t have one doubt in my mind and agreed. He was very nice on the way home and oh my god I thought he had the nicest car in the world. (In reality it was an old junky sports car) He dropped me off a couple houses down from mine so my parents would not see. He wanted to see me again so I gave him my phone number; he called the next day after school. We talked a while and he asked if he could come over. my sister was going to be home soon so I told him no, but he agreed to meet me the next day at my house after school. He did and things were going fine. Over the next week he met me every day after school at my house. I finally gave him a key so he didn’t have to wait in the car for me, at his request. The next week was going well, I was learning more and more about him by the day. he sold drugs and had a lot of money, he also used them which I thought was cool. He could buy me anything that I could ever want at 13. Then it happened about 2 weeks or so into this "relationship", we were watching TV in my mom’s room and he started kissing me. I was a little nervous but went along with it. Then he had his hand up my shirt and I was a little scared. When he tried to put his hand down my pants I pushed him away and told him no. He laughed at me and pushed me down on the bed. Then he raped me. Then he left. This continued for the next couple months, I would get home and he would be in the house. He became more violent, threatening me with a gun, hiding in rooms and jumping out just when I thought I was safe. He threatened to kill me many times. One day he brought his cousin over to my house. His cousin paid him for the privilege of fucking me. Now I was just a whore, and he told me that. I was his. He carved his initials in my stomach with a paring knife from the kitchen so I would never forget. It kept going on and no one knew, no one but the two of us. One day I begged him to please shoot me. I wasn’t scared anymore, I just wanted to get out of the hell I was living and that seemed to be the only way. I couldn’t tell my parents, we didn’t get along very well and I knew that I would be in trouble for even talking to this much older man. I screamed at him to just fucking shoot me. He didn’t but when he left he said one day he will. He didn’t come back after that. Things started to get better. I had turned 14 by now and I finished out the school year. I moved into the 10th grade the next year. I was really depressed and had started cutting myself the year before. I just wanted to die but wasn’t sure how to do it so I didn’t fuck it up. I went to the Burger King across the street from school most days and hung out with friends. One day while I was there I saw him, walking around hiding in the parking lot selling drugs to the highschool kids. He saw me too. One day I was staying after school for detention with my music teacher. As I was sitting in the room I saw him out in the hallway of my school, looking at me. I started to freak out. I tried to get out of the detention since there were still people in the hallways. He wouldn’t let me leave. I started making up stories about why I had to go. When he finally let me leave I walked out in the hall and was escorted with a gun out of the building. He took me to his car out in the parking lot, towards the back, under a big tree. He pushed me in not even closing the door, and raped me at my school in the parking lot. My music teacher came out into the parking lot in the middle of this. I screamed his name as loud as I could because I couldn’t deal with this again. He looked over and he saw me in the car with this man on top of me. I screamed help before I was smothered by his hand over my mouth. My teacher looked right at me again and walked away, got in his car and left me there. After he let me go I went back in the school and tried to clean myself up in the bathroom. I had a meeting to go to for an afterschool club I was in. I went and explained to the teacher that ran it that I had detention and that was why I was late. I sat down and started to watch the movie that everyone else was. I was shaking horribly but I didn’t realize it. The teacher came over and said she needed to see me in the hall. She asked what was wrong and I just stood there. She was really nice and I trusted her. I was thinking about telling her because I just couldn’t deal anymore. Then a girl from the room walked out. I lost my nerve and said nothing was wrong. I started to stay after school for no reason, scared to go home, scared to go to Burger King. Anytime I did go home it seemed that he was there. That same teacher that asked me what was wrong used to give me a ride home some days at a later time. I almost told her a lot of different times. One day she dropped me off and his car was down the street. I came so close to telling her because I was so scared to go into the house but I didn’t and I went in and was raped again. He was high a lot of the time, much more violent. One day in my kitchen he kept banging my head against the wall. I remember at that point my concern was not that he was going to kill me but that he wouldn’t and he would damage the wall. He moved to banging my head against the tile floor in the kitchen and I blacked out. When I woke up I wished I hadn’t. I was still cutting myself every night so my arms looked like meat. I wore long sleeves most of the time. Then one night after he left I couldn’t stand it anymore. I went through all the medicine cabinets and collected all the pills I could find. I didn’t know what half of them were, left over perscriptions and other things. I took them all in my room and after dinner I took them all. I just layed there waiting to die, but it didn’t happen. Instead I got really sick and puked. I had stomach cramps all night, but I didn’t die. I wrote a letter to that nice teacher that day and slipped it under her door. I told her what I had done. I just wanted someone to care. She told the nurse, principal (who was her husband, duh, I wasn’t thinking), and guidance counselor. I got scared again. I said that I didn’t know why I did it. I tried to make it seem like no big deal. They called my mom. She got mad. After school I didn’t go home, I went to my friend’s house down the street. Now I was scared of two people. Finally it got late and her mom told me I needed to go home. When I got there my mom was really mad at me. It turned into a big fight..why did you do that? I lied and said that I didn’t and I just said I did. didn’t know why I claimed. I would not sit and talk to her and I stood up to go upstairs. She said sit down I said no. she pushed me back to the sofa. I stood up again, she pushed me back down again. It went on like that for a couple minutes untill she punched me in the face and my nose started bleeding all over her nice carpet. That pretty much ended it. Things continued pretty much the same..I didn’t go home much after school anymore so things were not that bad. It happened a few more times right before I turned 16. Then he was gone. I kept cutting myself and it got worse. Now that it seemed to be over the reality of it all was sinking in and I was so depressed. I wanted to die for the longest time. Things got better but it took a long time. I still have horrible days. I still see him sometimes. He still looks at me with those scary black eyes. He still calls me a slut when he sees me. I still have days when I worry that he is going to come back and kill me like he said he would. But things are better. I have a lot of people to thank for that. First my husband Erik for putting up with me and my moods, my therapist Marijo for dealing with me for all these years, my friends, My Favorite Muffin (of the mega variety) Meghan, Kanta, Nicole, Debbie, Shannon, Puppy, Puppy’s Brother, and also Tori for writing the music that has made my life easier and harder in many ways, and for acting like she cares about me as a person.

I go to an elite east coast college. A women's college. Did you know an 18 year old girl at a women's college can still be raped in her dorm room by her boyfriend? I guess I didn't.

State laws are strange things: I was legally raped because there was penetration, but I am legally a virgin still because penetration was done with his hands only. Because he masturbated himself before entering me, he left me a parting gift of trich and god knows what else; I'm still waiting to get those tests back. The HIV was mercifully negative. Because he raped me with his hands, no one thought to check for STD's when i was sick, so a year passed before I was diagnosed. I don't know yet if there was any lasting damage.

I lost some friends over this: they didn't believe he would do this or that if he had it wasn't my fault somehow anyway. I discovered how wonderful the remaining ones I had were. Literally, they refused to let me die by eating disorder, cutting, or OD or anything else. I love them very much.

I didn't press charges. I was too scared. And I still see him a lot. I can truthfully say that now, a year later, I have mostly healed. I hate the bastard who did this, but I don't hate myself. I am at peace with myself. But no one should be able to take away a year of a girl's life and fill it with pain like that.

God, I hope this helps someone.

I was raped by my uncle when I was about 4 or 5 while I was spending the summer at my grandmother's house. It was hot, and I had been playing in her lawn sprinkler, and he was watching me while I played. Later that day when my grandmother and I were both having afternoon naps, he came into my room. I didn't realize he was in with me until I felt him pressing down on me. I can still remember the smell -- alcohol, stale cigarette smoke and rancid sweat. He jerked off my panties before I was really awake, and began fondling me. I remember being afraid and whimpering, but he told me that if I made any noise or told anyone, he would kill me and my baby brother. Something cut my upper thigh -- his zipper maybe, or his pocketknife -- I still have the scar. I was terrified. He told me that he could tell that I wanted it by the way I had been acting earlier in the day. He pressed my face down into the bedpillow and raped me. Through it all, and for a while after he left, I stayed quiet. I went into the bathroom and saw blood -- on my nightgown, on my legs. I wiped it off and put on some underwear, then crawled back into bed. I felt so very small and sad. My grandmother sent me home a few days later because I was crying all the time and running a fever.

I wish that was the only time I had been raped. I was so young then, and my memories of it are hazy around the edges. Unfortunately, my other memories are crystal clear.

My self-esteem has never been very good. I fell into an abusive relationship when I was 16. That man abused and intimidated me in every way possible. I was very afraid of him, and especially afraid of what he might do to me if I upset him. He raped and assaulted me, and had other men rape and assault me several times during our relationship. He humiliated and belittled me. The rapes were just an especially degrading item in his array of torture methods. I left him by breaking up with him and immediately fleeing the state. I stayed with a family friend for a couple of years while I was in therapy. I never pressed charges. I thought about it, but decided that nothing could ever make up for what he had done to me, and that my life couldn't stand any more intrusion, no matter how well-intentioned. Now, later, I wish I had gone to the police. What I want more than anything is to know that he can never do this to anyone ever again. What he did to me is beyond comprehnsion. He scarred my body, he wounded my soul.

It seems massively unfair that I am the one who suffers after these rapes. I have flashbacks and nightmares in which I relive the events. If I were meting out justice, I would se to it that the rapist feels the emotional destruction that comes with rape, that he relives the horror and the pain from the victim's point of view every time he sleeps or gets startled. I would certainly make it so that the victim doesn't have to relive her assault ever, ever again. Once is too much! If anyone wishes to contact me, they can e-mail me at Onesurvives@hotmail.com. I also have a rape survivors' website up at http://www.geocities.com/Wellesley/Gazebo/8216/index.html.

Joanna
 

And I had no memories. Even if he had raped me the night before, I didn't remember it. Nor did I remember all of the other times from birth until age twelve. And I didn't remember until a few weeks after my fifth suicide attempt, at age fifteen, when I was "losing my virginity" to a boy who I thought that I loved. He was on top of me and I couldn't have cared less if it had happened or not, but I looked up at him and saw my father's face. Needless to say, several more flashbacks followed and I still wanted to die.

I broke my silence to my mother, who informed me that I was the fifth direct generation of women in our family that had been abused. She told me that whatever I needed to do, I would be supported. I spoke to my therapist about it and before she would let me get into great detail, she informed me that if I went into detail, she would have to call DCFS, who would investigate the matter, never mind the fact that I no longer lived with my father, or even saw him on a regular basis. So I became silent again, for another year and a half, until the magical age of 18 came and went.

I still have to communicate with the bastard, but now I am able to do what is necessary for me to do to survive.

I WILL NEVER BE SILENT AGAIN.

faeriewolf
 

i sometimes think i oughtn't tell
because i am not sure what happened and what didnt
what is real and what my sick twisted mind might have made up

it came back in dreams
and images
and flashes
and strange sudden recoiling from things
and a feeling
knowing all along that something had happened

little pieces that fitted together
the infections
the self injury
the injury 'down there' [of which i am so ashamed i could scrape my skin
off for admitting to it.]
the starvation

alot of things
i suppose it's time to stop baeting around the bush
and using lots of ways of getting round it
of implying but not ever saying the words

so what happened to me?

i think

i was abused by a family member
at first he made me touch him, mostly in the bath
then he touched me
then he raped and sodomised me.
on holiday, he raped me
on my family holiday with the sun and family and i was supposed to look
forward to.
i dont know why that bothers me so much

i suppose it means nothing was sacred
nothing was untainted
i couldnt get away

i dont remember alot
i didnt remember alot for a long time

and now i am scared shitless

i dont know how to deal with it
since i dont know alot of what happened

i think i must be making it up because it is just too much, i couldnt
have forgotten all that

then i was abused and raped by my mothersforst husband. she picked
violent and abusive men.

her second husband molested me and pinned me down, and kissed me and
walked in on me when i was dressing and stuff like that but he never
raped me. so it never bothered me so much.

i lost my boundaries
my right to say no
i cant say no now

so one night i got drunk and some bloke took me to a park and started
touching me and i let him. so i cnat complain. and he hurt me inside so
much adn i cried and he just said 'what i'm gonna do next will hurt much
more' and laughed

and i still couldnt say no or run away
then he fucked me.
i dont remember all of it because i passed out for some of it.

he did it twice
entered me anally once by mistake
got up and then said ' you weren't a virgin were you?'

i got home [god knows how] and slept
i walked around in a daze, crying, for the next few days

a very stupid mistake that i will regret for the rest of my life.
i feel so dirty and cheap and sordid

like trash
i want to scratch my skin off

so now i am utterly screwed up, but there are lots of other reasons for
that too.

i swore i wouldnt get drunk again, but of course i do.
and i still get myself into compromising situations.
but i have been lucky.
i am very stupid.

i cant say no, to anyone
so these poor guys sleep with me not realising that i hate them, i hate
it. to me it feels like rape again
but i havent said noe i cant say no. sometimes i even say yes, because i
feel they have more right to fuck me than i have to lead them on and
then disappoint them.

i know it isnt right
but there you go.

i go by many names