i don't even really want to say your name,
i hate the fact that even 6 years later, the holidays are tinged with a hint of anxiety and shame. all because you were so stupid.
thinking back over that period of time in my life, i've reached a lot of conclusions. i was never left in hindsight with the impression that you were (are) a bad or evil person. do i think you are painfully sexist? absolutely. do i think you embody all of the prejudice and cruelty and ignorance that your father was so proud of? definitely. but i don't think you are evil or malicious. i think you were mean, i think you were manipulative, and i think you were insensitive. it's easier for me to continue thinking those things about you, too, actually-because if i didn't, i would give in to that general tendency i have to want to forgive and find the good in people and make amends and befriend the very people who have hurt me most in life. but you are the exception. you are the straw that breaks my back.
it makes me cringe to think about the day after christmas 2003, because when i think about it, all i can think about is everything you took away from me that afternoon (and i don't believe that anyone should ever have that much power over me). but it's true. i didn't give those things up, and definitely not willingly. i feel to this day that they were robbed from me, that they were snatched hurriedly and without warning, and it has left me scarred ever since.
since that cold afternoon, i'm an entirely different person. i'm someone who feels dirty every time she has sex, who can't enjoy sex, who can't allow herself to submit to pleasure, let alone communicate it. i can't be kissed on my neck anymore without it being hard for me to breathe. where there once was a girl who was happy and confident and surrounded by friends, there is now a young woman who consistently second-guesses and guards herself and isolates herself, because she believes that she will always be hurt in the end, and no one will hear her cry. i can't own the good things about myself and i'm more willing than ever to accept the bad things about myself uncritically. my relationship with god is hanging by a thread, and i feel so numb inside about it that i don't know how to get it back. i feel a persistent fear of being anything other than, "fine" to my parents, because it was you who made me their, "sick child," even though they didn't really buy it anyway-and their blaming it entirely on you and dismissing the other things has hurt my ability to share with them. i'm a colder, angrier person than i ever used to be. when i should be happy, i wait for the other shoe to drop-i feel like that emotion is something far off for me, like it's a heat i can feel at the tips of my fingers, but i can't for the life of me just jump headfirst into it.
and i think about that time and even though i know it's not my fault, i still blame myself-i should have told someone, i should have fought harder. but the fact of the matter was that though that afternoon was the one instance that would be worth a police report, it was that whole time that got me to the point that i didn't believe my safety, my body, my purity and my sanity were worth protecting. and to this day, i'm ashamed of myself for ever being in that position.
you ruined my relationship with Joe. by using him as a weapon to bring me to my knees and do what you wanted (just to get you to stop rubbing him in my open wounds), you also bound me forever to him. i will always love him for my own reasons, but i feel when i'm with him like i'm damaged. not like i'm a strong person who overcame you, but who destroyed herself by running to you to get him out of my system. by telling me, "close your eyes, it will be over soon," to get me to stop crying as you took from me the first time, it was his face that i found there-it was the last place i had felt safe. and so every time, every time i closed my eyes, a part of my soul begged him to wake up, and to save me. and he didn't. and so i can't be his friend. i can try awkwardly, i can pretend to, but i can't. because when i look at him, i'm reminded that he never saved me, and wouldn't if i asked him to. and it makes me angry.
and i punish shawn for everything you did to me. i'm closed off physically and guarded emotionally. as much as i make myself vulnerable, part of me always believes that he will let me down-because it was you who taught me that that's what people do to me. they take me for granted, they hurt me, they bruise me. and i want so desperately to stop doubting him. but i'm that kind of girl who holds her breath anymore, who consistently waits for the other shoe to drop. you have taken perhaps my most precious gifts-my faith and my optimism. and i can't seem to track them down, and i can't get them back. because you have them. you have stolen from me in one moment my faith in my own intuition, my sense of perception and reality, my confidence in my talents and strengths, my faith in others, my sweet sensuality. and so even though i'm an authentic person, i still feel in some moments that i'm walking in a shell of the person i used to be. that while i am still nice, and still smart, and still funny, that there's a sense of restraint to it, and it will never approximate the freedom with which i let my hair down and loved myself before you did what you did.
and it goes against every fiber of my being, but i don't want happiness for you. i don't want to wish you well or be civil. as long as you still appear in my nightmares, as long as your name or your proximity makes my heart race and my breathing hard, as long as i feel the shame and anger i do each december, i will hate you, and i will want you dead. which i hate about myself, i really do.
i just wish you'd leave me alone, and i wish i could get back what you stole. because you don't even know the magnitude of your keeping it. it breaks me. you've broken me.
sincerely,
your "queen."