It was one fateful night in summer of 06 that would turn my life around. I dated THAT bad boy for on and off for two years in middle school. He was older than me. He was sexy. He was the girl everybody wanted. But he was mine. We went to a party in which I knew nobody other than him. As he took in two blunts to the face laced with cocaine, he was in his own world, and my reality. Took my hand and led me to a bedroom. Who knew shit could hit the fan in two seconds. All I could feel is his hand punch my face, and the other caress my body. No control. No sudden movements or else I'd be dead, and I knew it. Shoves his dick down my throat. Choke, gag, breathe. But it's never really over. Reach for the door, reach for hope. He grabs my arm and flings me back on the bed. Knife. "If you don't have sex with me, I'll fucking kill you" The blade graces my skin leaving a very long scratch. That's it. My turn to take control. I punch him in the balls, grab my clothes, and run. And run. And run. Run away from it all. Run away from my own thoughts. It never happened. Those thoughts could only have lasted me so long. My bad boy, really was a bad boy. I was so young, I didn't even know what the word rape or sexual assault meant.

Months go by and he tries to talk to me. Frustration and anger takes upon him when I refuse to answer. Frequently he would be outside of my house, knocking on the side of my house, knowing he is getting to me. Loving that he has control over my emotions. I got used to sobbing on my bed, asking God to protect me. Asking him to keep me safe. One night in the beginning of February I went out to get the mail, not thinking that anybody would be out to get me. Little did I know, I was blind sided walking back to my house. Jumped. Beaten. Abused. Used. I was dragged to the top of my back yard. Made me give him head again. And then he ran away. And then I ran. And ran. And ran. I ran from my family. I ran from my friends. I ran from everything. Never would I tell anyone. It was not until seven months later I started dating my boyfriend of 2 and a half years Eric. He was the first one to know. About any of it. One night I just broke down, lying my biggest secret on the floor, and breaking down the biggest wall of mine. He comforted me. Told me I was beautiful even though I felt ugly, discusting, and dirty. He told me that he did not look at me any less, but in a higher respect, knowing that I have survived something like this. Little did we both know, it was never really over.

 This spring break he came back. He came back to take my innocence away from me, like it was supposed to be his. I said goodbye to my little brother, knowing that his lucky ass would be on the next flight to California in a few hours. My mom asked me if I wanted to go to the airport with them, and I said no, I was tired. They both left at 3 in the morning to drive to New York. Sound asleep, in my bed. Never again will I say no to a drive to the airport. I wake up to the sound of my door moving. Thinking it was one of my cats, I drift back to sleep. I wake up, and I see his face staring at me, standing there, in MY doorway. I scream, I cry, I run. With a few minutes of fighting and running around my house, he grabs me by my hair and throws me on to MY bed. I'm kicking and screaming and punching and doing everything in myy power to get him the fuck off of me. He takes out a gun, and puts it to my head. Silence. I give up. He can do whatever he wants to me, please don't take my life. Rips off my clothes. Rips off his. This is it. Goodbye innocence. Goodbye fifteen years of my life of being pure. Goodbye all hope in this world, in people. I'm sorry God. Goodbye to waiting. Goodbye to my self respect. Pain and blood. Never in my whole life was I ever in as much pain as I was that night. Literally and figuratively. He didn't just leave me house, he left with all of me. I take a shower. Go to sleep in the hall way. Never could I be as vulnerable and as broken as I was. And just when I thought I reached my breaking point, I thought wrong. Cause it's never really over.

One night I was outside smoking a cigarette. A car slowing goes past my house, and I think nothing of it because my road is a windy fucking thing. And the next thing I can remember is being in a head lock with a gun to my head. I wanted to fight back, but the fight in me just wasn't there anymore. Carried into a car and raped. And raped. And raped. God I hate that word. It hurt. But I felt numb. I felt dead. I could not comprehend why this was happening to me. Why it happened in the first place. And why it's happening again. None of this makes any sense. Pain and confusion struck over me and I was dumped on the side of the road.

I went through intensive therapy. I went through my parents accusing me. I went through the rumors at high school. The humiliating stories people would come up with. I had some of my closest friends call me a liar. I had my teachers look at me weird, and I had one of my best friends not support me through it all. It was rough. It was hard. And I woke up every morning hoping that God would take my life just to put me out of my misery. But I did have people who believed me. I had people who wanted to do everything they could for me. And I had a certain few people who stayed by my side through it all. And I guess that is all you really need. The guy that raped me has been in and out of jail since the beginning of summer. Nobody else in this world could possibly want him in there more than I do. And I have had many people tell me that they are going to murder him. And I, the girl that wants him dead more than anything in this world, have the strength to say talk them out of it. Tell them not to stoop down to his level, and to not waste your life on someone as pathetic and sad as him. This is a process of recovery. A journey of realizing who I am, and how I am still myself even though this has happened to me. One day I will become a survivor. One day I won't have flashbacks and I won't let this consume me. And believe me, I'm getting there. It just takes time. I know that God has a purpose for me in life. And I know that He was enduring all the pain I was feeling, and was holding me in his arms telling me that it is all going to be okay. It is God that gives me hope. Not this world, not this society, not people. But Him. For a while i resorted to drugs and partying. Thinking that if I could escape from reality, I could escape from the pain and the fears of my everyday life. But I want anyone to know who is going through a similar situation or even a hard time in life. Find hope in some place. Find it in God, nature, quotes, writing, friends, family, anything. Do not find hope in drugs. They are decieving and make things worse. If anybody wants to talk, I am totallly willing to talk. You need to talk. It's the only way to recovery. And recovery will come, to all of us.

  Pain is inevitable, Suffering is optional.

You don't always have to pretend to be strong,
there's no need to prove all the time that everything is going well,
you shouldn't be concerned about what other people are thinking.
Cry if you need to, it's good to cry out all your tears,
because only then will you be able to smile again.

I could write novels about pain. Not the kind of pain you get when you break your arm, but the kind that makes your broken heart go into your throat, so that it takes all of your energy and concentration to breathe. The kind of pain that makes you want to scream & sob at the same time. The kind of pain that makes you want to hurt everyone around you because you're suffering & they're not, because they can breathe without feeling guilty & hold a normal conversation without breaking down into fits of tears or rage.

When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No… don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away.

Go ahead and burn it down, I'm drunk and so is everyone else in this devil town.

I am crrraving tattoos, as you can see from the pictures below. I have so many different ideas and I just don't know which one to get first. 1. The word "forgiven" in old english. 2. A beautiful dove that I designed. 3. The word "purpose" 4. An antique key. 5. The bible verse Isaiah 35:4 "Say to those with fearful hearts, Be strong and do not fear, for your God is coming to destroy your enemies, He is coming to save you" 6. I want stars somewhere. 6. A small cross on the side of my wrist. And there is probably more that I'm just too retarded to think of. But all of them mean something to me, and I just want one sooo bad.