A Letter From a Survivor

Maybe it is easy for those who have never endured the piercing swords of rape culture to say, “You asked for it." But when YOU have had your math teacher molest you even when YOU screamed no; and remain at school with you even when YOU spoke up; when YOU have been besieged, blamed and even bullied; when YOU relate to a portion of the 300,000 casualties drowning in a sea of despair amidst an apathetic world; when YOU abruptly discover your fingers fidgeting and your throat throbbing as you attempt to go to a grocery store or anywhere outside your home because you are inclined to believe thateveryone wants to rape you, and feel tears starting to fall from your eyes as you become paranoid that someone is planning to hurt you again; and feel the chaotic car race commencing in your mental road of thoughts, and notice that you are starting to change your perception by emerging a subconscious fear towards all of humanity; when YOU must articulate an explanation for your father who is asking, “Why won’t you let me hug you anymore?”; when YOU suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder and find it compulsory to remain day after day in the entrapping walls of your bedroombecause the outside world might trigger your anxiety; when YOU are disgraced day in and day out by insensitive people telling you “get over it” and “be happy”; when your first name becomes “dramatic”, your middle name becomes “sad” (when you are actually depressed) and your last name becomes “liar”, and your declining mental health is never considered to be “real”; when YOU are troubled by day and tormented by night by the fact that you are a victim of sexual assault, living incessantly with your fists clenched, in preparation to defend yourself against the impending doom, and are molested by inner perturbations and outer vexations; when YOU are repeatedly wrestling with a degrading discernment of “self-blame”THEN you will comprehend why I could not have possibly asked for it.As a survivor, I say “me too” every day.As a survivor, I speak. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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