Wednesday, October 5, 2011


I cried three times today.

I don't know how this week snuck up on me. I didn't notice the days spinning by...between my ferver for school and new commitment to all things media (btw RIP Steve Jobs), it's easy to see why. but those things were distractions; intuitively encroaching themselves on my consciousness to shield me.

but now it's two days away and not even Ryan Gosling can keep my mind away from the obvious.

I read a funny thing. It said:

           "I miss being the age where I thought I would have my shit together by the age I am now."

I'm 21. Tomorrow is my half birthday.

The next day is the anniversary of this. and I can't decide what to do with that day. All year I imagined that I would use it stroll down that path and assert my freedom from the oppression that that sort of thing naturally puts on a person. But now it's here---and that seems undoable. so undoable that panic finds itself in my chest with even the thought.

and it's all just serving as one big reminder that despite all the progress, all the good that has come, all the lessons learned,

         it's never over.

I also thought by the anniversary I would have begun a national revolution about violence against women of some sort. I would have riled all the people around me into becoming activists. I would have gotten the talk going. I would have freed the oppressed. I would have lifted the broken.

but here I am, almost a year later and all I have to say for myself is
       i'm still here.

so that will have to do. my quiet testament to life after rape will have to live in my quiet life.

maybe next year I'll start a life changing campaign to end this thing, this elusive violence against women. or maybe not.

because at the end of the day I know this sort of thing lies in the hands of individuals. And although national viewpoints can be destructive and demeaning, dangerous and deceitful, all I can ever really do is  begin to enlighten the individual to a heightening issue that is threatening to destroy our culture. does that seem overly dramatic? think about it a minute.

and thank you for reading. and thank you for your prayers. and thank you for your words. I can't tell you how many times an e-mail or a comment has come from one of you, whether I know you in real life or not, that has picked me up at a low point. your words kept me connected, even when I couldn't leave my bedroom.


  1. I see two options:

    a) Make a best friend/mom decide what to do to distract you to the fullest and just go wherever they take you.

    b) Bring a friend to a self-defense class and beat the crap out of some stuff.

    It never is over, but you do learn after a while that even if it'll never be ok, it'll always be better than it was in those moments. It will always move forward, you will always move forward. And you'll find a fragile, sensitive love somewhere that begins to show you the way to healing. I think, anyway.


  2. Oh. But I'm late, aren't I? Sorry... I hope you did manage to distract yourself perfectly. You do deserve a break from remembering.


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