Pleasure

Content Warning for this post: CSA, sexual content.

Fuck. This.

I hate this word. As in HATE this word. It feels so icky and gross and shameful and makes me feel like barfing.

And I don’t know how to write this post because if I actually write what my mind brings up it will be extremely crass.

*****

Okay, screw it. This is gross and triggery, and please only read if it feels safe.

The first thing that came to mind = guilt accompanied by his dear friend shame.

The image, actually the feeling, I can still feel myself there when I think of it, of being layed on my brothers bed, clothes removed from the waist down, my legs spread, his hands right there, doing the things he was going to do. I don’t remember anything leading up to this, this is where my memory starts (and there are plenty of the same thing). All I know is I feel sick with fear and anxiety, it sits in my tummy, and I’m just static, unmoving. I remember the first time he commented, told me how ‘wet’ (I’m sorry, sorry. I hate myself too) I was. I didn’t know what he meant, what he was talking about. And I had no voice to respond to him. I couldn’t talk. He continued this route, this fucking guilt trip, twisted silencing enforcing bullshit. It became how I ‘wanted it’ (despite sometimes panicking, sometimes kicking him, freaking the fuck out), and then it was how I was a whore, a cunt. It was how he did something for me (that I felt forced to do, never directly asked for), and so how I had to repay him. And yet it still stands…my body responded, it was experiencing pleasure. And that makes me hate myself an infinite amount. My body never betrayed me fully, it never responded all the way. At least not that I can remember, and not that I ever want to remember, I don’t think I can cope with that.

All the anger, it’s not even really at him. It’s at me. I what? Just walked in? Stripped and layed on his bed? Let it happen? Enjoyed it? Ugh. Fucking disgusting child. Fucking whore. Piece of shit.

I want to tear all of my insides out. I fucking hate this word.

One thought on “Pleasure

  1. my love. it was not your fault, that it happened so many times, that your body did what bodies do. you didn’t ‘enjoy’ it, or it wouldn’t haunt you the way it does, it wouldn’t hurt you. you didn’t have much of a choice, sweet love.

    i am so so angry at all the things he said to you whilst violating your body, that was so gross and disgusting of him, to insert revolting ideas in your mind as he inserted himself, uninvited, into your body.

    i just want to hug you.

    Like

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