(no subject)
Feb. 14th, 2013 04:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sorcyressTrigger Warning: non-graphic post about my abuser (emotional, sexual)
Valentines day was one of the first times I can ever remember being at their house. They had presents for me1 and we hung out some and...
...and.
Second base at least, tender and sweet and exciting at how new. But still so scary and still so shy because exciting is not always enough to overwhelm the sense that this is not who I am meant to be. And I was not old enough to have the vocabulary to say "no".
The holiday's not something I've paid much attention to in the last few years, no one I date really celebrates it so nor do I. And mostly I can get through it okay. Unless my brain makes that damnable connection and remembers that there was a year I celebrated it.
...honesty, Sor. *Until* my brain makes that damnable connection.
I hate this holiday for a completely different reason from the rest of you. And now I have to shove away my memories and put down my dearest Emily, and eat something quick-quick lest I faint and rush off to work, to teach. The world is never so unfair as when it refuses to stop for my pain.
Me.
MOOP!
1: Those are gone now. The only thing I still own from them is the notes. Because never before had someone courted me in words, and never since. Little notes to say "I love you", left on my keyboard or snuck into my pockets, every day it seemed. I cry when I look upon them, but there is no part of this writer's soul that could destroy them. And I don't want you to try either.
Trigger Warning: non-graphic post about my abuser (emotional, sexual)
Valentines day was one of the first times I can ever remember being at their house. They had presents for me1 and we hung out some and...
...and.
Second base at least, tender and sweet and exciting at how new. But still so scary and still so shy because exciting is not always enough to overwhelm the sense that this is not who I am meant to be. And I was not old enough to have the vocabulary to say "no".
The holiday's not something I've paid much attention to in the last few years, no one I date really celebrates it so nor do I. And mostly I can get through it okay. Unless my brain makes that damnable connection and remembers that there was a year I celebrated it.
...honesty, Sor. *Until* my brain makes that damnable connection.
I hate this holiday for a completely different reason from the rest of you. And now I have to shove away my memories and put down my dearest Emily, and eat something quick-quick lest I faint and rush off to work, to teach. The world is never so unfair as when it refuses to stop for my pain.
Me.
MOOP!
1: Those are gone now. The only thing I still own from them is the notes. Because never before had someone courted me in words, and never since. Little notes to say "I love you", left on my keyboard or snuck into my pockets, every day it seemed. I cry when I look upon them, but there is no part of this writer's soul that could destroy them. And I don't want you to try either.
Trigger Warning: non-graphic post about my abuser (emotional, sexual)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2013-02-15 02:38 am (UTC)Maybe tomorrow.
*hgugles*
no subject
on 2013-02-15 12:39 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-02-21 12:44 am (UTC)~Sor
no subject
on 2013-02-15 12:43 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-02-21 12:46 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-02-21 12:54 am (UTC)