color key — blue: mental health; red: assault; green: self-reflection. contrast of light and dark correlates with bright and somber tones of voice.

Hoping, Wishing, Praying

Hoping, Wishing, Praying

Hoping, Wishing, Praying

Hoping, Wishing, Praying

cw: sexual assault. I know now that what happened to me all those years ago was not my fault; I didn't deserve the trauma that came with the horror I had endured. A stupid, overly drunken teenage girl I was back then, indeed. Who would have thought drinking with two guys I'd considered my friends at the time and trusted even, would've gotten me into such a predicament? I was only 15, they were barely adults. That feeling of fading in and out — blacked out for the most part, while not being able to do a damn thing still just tears me apart to this day. I'm not trying to provoke anyone by saying this, but all I seem to remember is being conscious long enough to feel the weight of them both taking turns with my body, as if it was all that existed to them — like I didn't. It's not fair that they get to live with the satisfaction of knowing what they did will forever scar me. I hope that eventually they realize how truly shitty they are for what they did to me (and probably others too). They'll never be deserving of my forgiveness, and that's that.

Recently, for the first time since then, I was able to take a shower without heating the water to the point that I was red-hot upon getting out.

For so long I was in this hole, which felt more like a grave, that I had dug for myself; I have been so deeply depressed for years now. I'm beginning to feel proud of myself again and no one can take that away from me. I refuse to treat myself like a damsel in distress because the only saving I need is from myself and the Lord.

I hope that at some point I'm able to be as optimistic as I once had been about life, but until then — here's to hoping, wishing, and praying that this slow recovery stays on the right track.

© Midnight Woman 2021