collections 6:4

Can we ever abandon our old lives? Not likely. A lot of people have heard the story now- Maybe more people than I would've liked to have admitted it to, but a lot of people who I felt like I had to admit it to in order to start getting over it- my molestation. Once upon a time, there was a man who snuck into my room late after I dosed off... he ran his hands over my body, groping my genitals and violating me while I slept. It's not your ordinary story of a molestation though- I was twenty one when it happened and he was my roommate.

I had met him through my girlfriend at the time and trusted him, as though he were a close friend of mine. We spent afternoons talking about my girlfriend, video games, or any number of subjects- the things that friends talked about. I smoked some of my first cigarettes with him while lamenting the downward spiral of that relationship and I was there for him whenever he was emotionally struggling. And yet, he still snuck into my room late at night and touched me... I didn't know at first, but started catching on. I pissed the bed one night, something I hadn't done in over a decade... and I started having vivid sexual dreams. After I told him about the first sex dream, I said, "It felt so real." He giggled awkwardly, averting his eyes. Like he didn't know, right? My suspicians grew over time and once, I asked him about it. He wrapped his hands around my throat and started choking me, a great big smile on his face. I managed to kick him off, but then I knew that I had to leave. I packed everything up one morning and was out the door, homeless for two weeks because of him in the middle of my semester. I did manage to get back on my feet though- And one day, one of his female friends told me what I had already known. She just confirmed it for me, by telling me out of surprise.

I never did forgive him and I doubt I ever will, but as my semester ends and I'm considering going back home, the fear of seeing him again climbs deep in the pit of my stomach. Only moments ago, a friend of mine posted a new picture on facebook- he was a co-worker, as well as the co-worker of my molestor, and as it turns out, the two are still friends. In fact, everyone who my molestor and I had worked together with are still friends- I quit that job because of him, because they wouldn't do anything to stop him from working there, even though he sexually abused me, and yet they can still be friends with him... convinced that I had been lying, I guess. I guess it's easier to just assume the kid who left was lying.

He still approaches some of my friends- he talks shit about me, like I was the one who wronged him. The worst part about it is that I am an adult though, and that I could never do anything. I can't say, "Well, it happened when I was young," or "I didn't know better," or "There was nothing I could do." There's no excuse for this happening to an adult- I'm supposed go out and beat his ass or something, but for some reason, I don't even have the courage to see his face again. I don't have the strength to... I try so hard to pretend he never existed that any evidence he did makes me feel sick to my stomach, to the point of wanting to vomit. As an adult male who was molested, I can't play a fucking victim, even though I know I am.

I guess I'm writing this on a public place because I think it will help me to use it in my actual writing, knowing that the truth will be out there and I won't be afraid to try it in work that I intend on publishing. My life has been ups and downs and that's one of the lower downs, but I need to climb up from it some way or another. I will never get vengeance, and I don't want it... As much as I may want to though, I will never forget it either. So this isn't for pity, this isn't for understanding... this is just an excerpt from a past life that I can't escape, that follows me wherever I go. I hope karma will handle the rest, but until then... I'll just keep on writing.