I didn't want and I still do

I didn't want his body on top of mine when I woke up.
I didn't want him to grab my hair and put his member inside.
I didn't want him to do any of those things while I was unconscious.
I didn't want to stay with him when I knew something wasn't right.
I didn't want him to smash his head against the floor and call himself an idiot.
I didn't want him to kill himself as he told me he would if I ever left.
I didn't want him to lie and say it was all in his sleep.
I didn't want him to continue doing it over and over again.
I didn't want him to follow me around when I tried to break up with him.
I didn't want to be cornered and I surely didn't want him to make the same promises again.
I didn't want our 'friends' to look at us and think it was just another couple's drama.
I didn't want to get yelled at until I fell and two strangers came to help out.
I didn't want him to get in my head and make me believe his lies.
I didn't want to become unhinged and start fights when our friends were around.
I didn't want to continue to beg him to get help or I would leave.
I didn't want to doubt myself and my sanity.
I didn't want to believe that without him I would die.
I didn't want to sympathise with his stories.
I didn't want to believe that his behaviour was all because of his father's drinking problem.
I didn't want to believe his promises that once he moves out he would treat me right.
I didn't want to convince myself that it was all my fault and that I must've done something wrong.
I didn't want my fear and love to mix in a deathly combo of desperation.
I didn't want to cling to a boy that raped and abuse me when he tried to leave me for another.
I didn't want to be stupid enough to trust our friends.
I didn't want to be stupid enough to let one of them stay over for pizza and movies.
I didn't want to wake up with him on top of me calling me a liar when I said no.
I didn't want him to yell at me when I came up with reasons when he asked me why I didn't want to.
I didn't want to say yes when I wanted it all just to be over.
I didn't want to blame myself and hate myself for letting it happen all over again.
I didn't want to wave it off and get back to work.
I didn't want to promise them I would still be their friend.

But I did and I hate myself for it. I don't need to be reminded of that.

I didn't want to be convinced to go to the hospital.
I didn't want to talk about what happened and I certainly didn't want to be told that it was rape and that I wasn't at fault.
I didn't want to enter the stages of grief and do some stupid shit.
I didn't want to be told that my ex was such a good guy and that I shouldn't file a complaint.
I didn't want to hear that our messed-up relationship was also my fault.
I didn't want to hear that I am overreacting.
I didn't want to be told that I would ruin his life.
I didn't want to go to the police and file a complaint against both of them.
I didn't want to find out that the people I called my friend would turn on me because of it.
I didn't want to be told that his friend was found innocent since there wasn't enough proof that I didn't want it.
I didn't want to know that he was raping other girls and no one was doing a thing.
I didn't want to be told that it can all be fixed if I just talked to my ex.
I didn't want to wake up every morning on the same bed that they raped me on.
I didn't want to deal with panic attacks so bad that some of them got me hospitalised.
I didn't want to be threatened for months.
I didn't want to continue putting all my energy into organising events I can't go to because they will be there.
I didn't want to be told that I could just stop the drama and attend those events.
I didn't want to be constantly reminded that I pissed them off.
I didn't want to be reminded that I should get a paid job and function in society.
I didn't want to wake up anymore. Hell, I don't want to be alive anymore.

But I still do it every day.

I still wake up in the same bed and drag myself to the shower.
I still sit down and stare at the water trying to convince myself that I'll get through it.
I still get dressed and eat, hoping I won't puke it out again in another panic attack.
I still write and join volunteering projects I believe in.
I still dance in the kitchen and sing my favourite songs.
I still drag myself to therapy and force myself to socialise.
I still try to find my passion in culture and literature.
I still try to hold myself together when I fall break down and cry.
I still get myself up after begging the world to let me die.
I still tell my body that it's ok, I don't blame her for what happened.
I still try to find ways to love myself again.
I still try to fall asleep hoping that tomorrow will get better again.
I still wake up in the same bed doing it all over again.

- Mia Terra -