by Patrick Michael Mellsop

I could tell you every emotion of a rape survivor and I can honestly say… years after it happened, I am still not over it. It destroys a part of YOU, a part that you can never get back. I did not understand the word, apart from the obvious. I knew it needed to have deeper meaning, the sadness made me bitter beyond belief and you listen to conversations about rape, and how it is always how man has done it to a woman. The “woman” is the victim.

You do not hear it happening to men.

We have created a society where it is normal for women to speak about it and where men are silenced. That little boy inside of me is hurt once again. The world is cruel and only the strong survive but I am weak, fragile putting on a front.
I ask myself, how I have allowed my spirit to be consumed by what he did. To allow myself to sit in pity every day. I ask how you dare not see a future because of what he did.

That sword pushed deep into my heart. My nursing hands of kindness are no longer able to nurture you. As the world neglects ME.
I no longer recognise the person that stares back at me in the mirror… I ask myself is this because of this person or because of how I allowed “it” to rule my “being”.

People say to me you can get over this and live your life… But I still sit here alone, a fraction of the person… I said, I used to be. Lying in bed for days and weeks with no contact from the outside world as a tear falls on emptiness.

The Police said you sit there angry and bitter blaming everyone else but yourself. That you acknowledge your attraction to young boys as if this is a good thing to hear. It is one thing that you acknowledge but another thing to destroy another person by your acts. How dare you sit there like you are the one, who is the victim? How dare you.

I hate you for what you did and I hate myself for allowing you to rule my life/future. You did not just rape me… you killed me.

I am not sorry, I cannot give you happy ever after story.