happened again.

it happened again.

another dude, same story.

woke up naked this morning, thinking i was having a nightmare about kicking someone away who was trying to get on me. 

then i realized it was actually happening.

as soon as i got him off me, i realized that i had no idea how i'd gotten there.

didn't remember his name.

didn't remember wanting to hook up at all, especially not with him.

didn't remember any part of hooking up with him.

so i told him that. he got dressed, went outside for awhile, probably to figure out a story, 

came back and crawled back into bed with me.

kept trying to sneak a peek at my tits, commented on how great and huge they are.

made jokes about it.

told me not to worry about it because i had fun.

claimed he had gotten me off...twice.

claimed he didn't remember having sex and doubted that it worked if we did.

said whiskey dick is his great protection.

i told him i was getting plan b. he paid me $25 for half.

i told him that if i do end up pregnant, i'll get an abortion.

he said he's anti-abortion.

but that it won't matter anyway because he didn't remember coming in me.

asked me why i was so freaked out.

because i'm naked next to a man who i barely know and i don't know how i got here.

because this doesn't stop happening to me.

because i know i'm not attracted to you and i think you know it too.

because blackout means no consent means rape. again.

she was raped numerous times by numerous different men.

assaulted more than she even realizes or remembers.

that was her life.

that was her whole god-damned life.

rape after assault after blackout rape.

didn't remember until later that one of the douchebags who was talking to us at the bar bought me a shot shortly before we left.

he thought he'd be taking me home.

i think the complete blackout happened within a half hour of taking that shot.

but then again, i have no idea.

waste of a drink for him, worked out okay for the other guy.

the other guy who referred to me as 'beautiful' and 'baby' this morning.

the other guy who said that since we'd already paid for the plan b, we might as well just fuck b/c at least it's taken care of.

that or 'give me a beej.' yup, a beej!

i chose the beej. i have no idea why i let him hook up with me again.

he just kept persisting, kept kissing me, looking into my eyes.

it wasn't like i fell for his 'sensitivity' as much as wanted to get it over with so he'd leave me alone.

and sure enough, as soon as he finished, it was time for him to go.

i asked him not to tell anyone, especially not someone we both know.

he said he'd tell whoever he wanted, and that he'd definitely tell old so-and-so.

please don't. i'll kill you!

you can be mad but that ain't gonna change anything. i'll tell whoever i want.

i feel so 

dirty.

disgusting.

used.

broken.

i want to be rescued, whisked away and told that everything will be okay.

i want everything to be okay.

i want this to never, ever happen again.

i want to be able to go out and not worry that i'll get raped at the end of the night.

is that so much to ask?

what do i have to do to avoid this?

where do i run?

who do i trust?

how do i surround myself with good guys instead of assholes?

how do i tell the assholes that i'm not.at.all interested?

but i feel like i did that. even this morning, i told him i knew i hadn't wanted it.

oh baby, don't worry about it. you had fun.

what do you remember?

i remember your great tits, i remember getting you off, i remember getting naked. i remember wanting to fuck you so hard. 

but you don't remember fucking me?

ahh, no? and i don't see any cum on the sheets, so it looks like i'm right. 

right. quit touching me.

but baby, you're so beautiful. i just gotta touch you.

((there was cum on the sheets. and the comforter. that was my favorite blanket, you dick. not even the common courtesy to clean up after you rape a girl who won't remember. fuck you.))

i didn't dress slutty. i didn't lead him on. i didn't invite him to bed with me. a friend told me today that i asked for help but she didn't know what to do, so she didn't come in to the room. i remembered later today that i tried to keep my underwear on. i didn't promise him anything, didn't pursue him, didn't make myself available. i talked to him for awhile. laughed at his jokes. let him and his buddy tease me. i didn't get bombed on purpose. didn't take tons of shots. didn't dance provocatively. i didn't latch onto his group of friends, didn't invite them over, wasn't even overly nice to him. i tolerated him. and somehow that was enough for him to welcome himself into my room, onto me, into me. i wasn't nice to him this morning. i wish i could stop myself from laughing when i'm uncomfortable, but i can't yet. so i laughed too much. after i told him i wasn't interested. but the laugh was enough for him to think it was okay to try and titty-fuck me so he'd have another story for his buddies. whatever, do what you want, i'm this broken piece of shit trying not to piss you off after you took full advantage of me. slander my name, call me a slut, blame me for being the drunk girl who really needs to invest in some birth control. you know, so that the next time someone feeds me a killer shot at bar-close and you follow me home, you can fuck me without having to pay me the next morning. it'd really be much more convenient for you if i quit resisting too, wouldn't it? just give in, you'll like it. just let me do this.

i feel like i'm never going to get out of this cycle. like i'm not safe anywhere. like this is the rest of my life and i'll be 80 and still talking through my experiences at a sexual assault survivors group. and people will cry because of how sad and hard my long life has been. because 60 years of rape, that's a long time. but that's what the road ahead is starting to look like. trying to sort out whose cum is on my blanket, when my last period was, whether i should get std tests now or just wait a few weeks for the next time it happens and save myself some money. i mean, how do i become a strong survivor when i'm still a fucking victim? once is too many times for this to have happened. and now it's numerous times? how did this happen to me? who have i become?? if last night had been the only time, i'd still be going crazy. but what's awful is that last night is more reflective of my sexual history than a healthy night would have been. will i ever get to experience fully satisfying, healthy sex with someone who actually loves me? what do i have to do to be able to deserve that?

god, i feel dead. like there's a huge part of me that is shriveled up and dead, and it's sucking the life out of all my healthy parts. like i'm in the tomb. easter is coming up, but it doesn't feel real. death is real. this emptiness is real. will i ever know what it's like to be resurrected? to be fully alive? that part is so hard to believe. it feels fake. all the celebration, the alleluias, the praise...it feels temporary. like this is a great morning and we'll all cheer, but night time is coming sooner than we might think. and tomorrow morning we'll be one day further away from knowing the truth. we'll be one day closer to good friday happening again. i know there's light in the midst of this pain, god, but is it enough? maybe i need more than the hope that someday things will be better. but how?

wake me up, god. shake me out of it. i don't always feel this way. let me remember that. 

breathe some real, fulfilling, nurturing life into me. quickly...