Saturday, 8 October 2011
He loves me, he loves me not
I had a really awful night, lots of flashbacks about the last time I had sex with my ex. It was awful. He knew all about what happened to me when I was 17, we didn't talk about it but he definately knew, I am only starting to look back and realise what a dysfunctional relationship it was. All my friends told me to ditch him but I judt didn't see it. The last time we had sex was awful, I was upset and crying all the way through and he didn't stop, he got really rough and pushed me onto my stomach, I was crying the whole time from pain and fear and he just didn't stop... After than I refused to sleep with him, to even let him touch me, and he started doing big drama things like walking out of the middle of a party and ultimately leaving me in the middle of a festival in Budapest. The reason he gave was that it was because I was being selfish and not letting him get near me... I ended it after that but I should have ended up way before then. He indulged my drinking, my eating disorder, there were the dramas, and the last time we had sex, the last time I had sex with anyone. Since then I have been too scared. Why do people not stop when I ask them? Am I really that much of a pushover. It's like my feelings don't matter. Like what I want to happen and not happen to my body doesn't matter.
I don't want to think about this shit, I want to forget, I don't want to deal with this on top of dealing with everything else. No should be enough. Crying should be enough. Saying I don't want to should be enough. But it never is. Never.
I hate my body.