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I didn't want to be violated. I hate what was done to me.
I wish I could remember everything
that happened, and be sure of the memories, but instinct tells me it was bad.
I look into the void inside my head and
I see nothing -- I know it's because I'm too much of a coward to recall it. I hate myself.
Can you imagine how it feels
to be invaded that way? To be so powerless that you just lie there and breathe -- just breathe -- just stare up into the shadows
and BREATHE and pray it ends?
And you're afraid -- so damned afraid -- your body is tight and it hurts -- it's like being
impaled. You can't do anything but breathe, because they've taken every other part of your body. They OWN you. You'll never
use your hands without feeling their engorged flesh against your palms. You'll never be touched without remembering their
hands on you. You'll never look at your breasts without remembering their mouths, hot on you, and greedy, like leeches.
You
are NOTHING. They OWN you now. They are power and you are shit. You cry, and they laugh at your tears. They walk away smiling,
you lie there, torn and dirty. And even when you do manage to get up, you're still lying there. On your back. In the dirt.
Forever.
Can you imagine that?
You are so ashamed. You wish the floor would swallow you. You know now exactly how
little significance you have. You can be used and discarded with no more reaction from the world than if you were a piece
of garbage.
Always, this is what you will be.
You walk through your life, but in your head, you're on your back in
the dirt, with your legs spread wide, and your shirt pushed up around your neck, your body tired and your thighs damp with
your own blood.
People see you on your feet, but you live on your back.
They see you intact and whole, but
you are dismembered. You are broken.
People look at you, but they don't understand why you are so quiet, why you're so
distant. They think you're cold, they think you're a snob. They don't know that you're so far away because somewhere inside,
you are still lying on your back in the dirt.
They don't understand what you're hiding from. They don't know why you've
built so many walls. They don't understand your fear, why your heart races whenever you get in an argument. How you lose the
ability to say "no" because you're afraid of what might happen next. How your opinions and needs become worthless because
YOU were once seen as worthless. They don't know that you are nothing.
It makes me sick. It makes me hurt. I hate living this way. Being nothing. Being garbage.
I
don't know how to become who I used to be. I don't know how to become someone new. I don't know how to get up -- I just want
to get up off my back.
I wrote this poem when I was at a pretty low ebb. I was in the middle of recovering
memories regarding the attack, and everything was dark. Then these words came to me, and I wrote them down. To me they are
an affirmation, a realization that even though I walk through some very black times, there will always be a dawn, even if
it only comes from within my soul.
I walk through unceasing twilight
On the path fate laid for me
The sky
is void of all but starlight
This dusk seems my eternity
And the darkness undefeated
Echoes to my prayer repeated
I begin a reckless flight
And beg the sun to banish night
And here I am, still blindly flying
Through
the brittle, frosted grass
As cold stars above me pass;
They are distant, but undying!
I hear their pure,
unending song,
I am the night, I am the dawn!
Right now, I'm in a place in my life where I can look back on the last sixteen years and say,
"I'm so much better now than I was then." Mostly, that's due to my active desire to heal -- I thank God that I'm not so afraid
anymore. There was a time when I thought I was so worthless that I didn't care if I was miserable. In my mind, I deserved
that misery.
Things are different for me now. I'm a better person right now than I was last year at this same time. I'm
stronger. I'm more caring. I'm a deeper, wiser person. I've come through this dark night with so much knowledge; I've finally
gained belief in myself. I trust myself now -- the details may be wrong, but the foundation is not. I believe in my ability
to keep moving, to get clear of the pain. I know that the assault will always be a part of my life. I know that I'll always
remember it and that I'll always look back on what happened with revulsion and dread. I know that -- I accept it -- I will
not let it control me anymore.
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Damon Hart Davis/DHD Photo Gallery
Numb
I don't care what you do to me
As long as you do something
Anything, just make me feel
Burn me -- freeze me -- hit me
Call me names, make me cry
I'm dead inside -- I'm
hollow
I'm a shell carved from ice
Thin brittle skin wrapped around
A core of nothing
Hold me -- hurt me --
hate me
Love me -- use me -- break me
Just touch me. Please.
Make me FEEL
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