This month I was invited to someone’s house. A person who I’d only known for hours and I went. At the time I was lonely and I thought he’d bring me back to my place. Of course he didn’t. I should have left but I stayed naively hoping and thinking he wouldn’t try anything. He tried to have sex with me a couple times and I kept stopping him but the damage was already done. Now I prefer to think of it as attempted rape even though I know I enabled him. And I hate myself for it every single day. Somehow I just want someone to tell me it wasn’t my fault. And I always believe there’s no coming back once you reach a certain point. That there’s no coming back for me.
