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[personal profile] violue
I don't know how I managed to leave these out. They're a big part of my little story.

The first is that I don't trust people. There's always some random thing I'm afraid to trust people for. It can be small or large, but it holds me back. I'll not trust them to get back to me, or to not judge me, or to not put me down to others, or to not abandon me. I can't trust people to want to still be my friend once they know everything about me. Especially in these past years. Justin knew things about me that I'd never told anyone, and am likely to tell anyone in the future, and he left. It's almost illogical for someone like me to trust people. I'm always inadvertently testing them until they give up on me, and once they're gone, I get mad at myself for ever trusting them with whatever I trusted them with in the first place. Everyone gives up on me at least once. Maybe not forever, maybe not for long, but of course they all do. I'm incredibly frustrating to know. (my bad) With Justin gone, the person I trust most is a friend I actually know through Zach. He doesn't like Zach though, and they don't see/speak to each other, and haven't in eons. Zach is pretty annoying when you're not desperate for his approval. I'd say I trust this person more than anyone, even if I don't really do it fully. If that makes sense. On the scale of my ability to trust, he is at the top. I trust him well enough.

So as I have, and will mention a million times, I on occasion tried to sort through the things that happened in my head or out loud, hoping or favorable results. One such time was last year, before Zach and I had stopped talking. I was getting a ride somewhere with that friend, and I started talking about how I was still struggling with the definition of what happened. He knew about it well, he was a close friend. He said it sounded like it boiled down to a misunderstanding. Something along the lines of Zach not realizing I wanted to stop until it was too late. And there had been instances in the past of "no we shouldn't...okay you may have me" for one reason or another I didn't want to(or said I did), but then for one reason or another changed my mind. So my friend thought maybe Zach was seeing it in terms of me changing my mind as a few more moments passed. And that idea truly does make me feel like it was my fault. I'd set a dangerous precedent in the past by never defining clear boundaries. You can say "no is no, he should have stopped," but if he thought I was going to go along with it after a bit, that's because of the boundaries he/I established/failed to establish. I wish I could remember more of the details. I do remember that part about him saying he'd been angry that day though, that brief conversation we'd had back at his place the day after. That should be in my last entry somewhere.

But what my friend said(logical or not) was such a kick in the face. He doesn't like Zach. He's a very smart and logical person. So it was like, if he was saying it, it had to be true. Suddenly I felt like I was no longer entitled to feel like it was rape. But the thing was, I didn't agree with the friend. It was a horrible moment. I guess I'd gotten to used to people agreeing with me, that I didn't see it coming, and with this my most trusted friend of all people saying this, well it made me sick. It made me trust him less. This was an important issue, and he was seeing it WRONG. How can I trust someone that's seeing such an important thing wrong? Maybe this is one of those things that only makes sense to me. There are a lot of things like that. After a while, I guess I just repressed it. I couldn't keep being friends with him with the memory of that conversation in my head, and I didn't want to lose my last close friend. I'd forgotten all about it until I was typing that last entry. I didn't want this memory back. It's a consequence of always waiting for people people to let you down, it has to happen eventually, and when it does, because you've been waiting for it, it's all you need as an excuse to shut people out.

-but is this the main thing I left out. i seriously don't understand how i forgot to add this:

Zach is unwilling to show specific sorts of vulnerability depending on the person. With me, he rarely apologized or offered up a compliment. He's not a giving person. A defense of his during a fight was that he'd given enough, and that I was demanding too much attention. We had to agree to disagree on that front. One time when we were going to sleep he said "I love you" completely out of the blue. I'm certain I saw no flying pigs that day and as far as I know hell did not freeze over, but it was pretty shocking. And of course I thought "awwww this is a new side of him..." and then it never happened again. Dick. Once last year, he said something that made me burst into tears. I can't remember what it is, but it was so bad that he actually apologized a moment later, and the surprise made me cry more. I guess where I'm going with this was that he is rarely one to admit fault. I had told myself I could just let the Tent Incident go, under the right circumstances. It can be said that I have every right to be as angry and hold on to that for as long as I have to, after all, it was rape.

But the problem is, there are things that happened between us that hurt me just as much as that night, if not more. Things that he'd have forgotten the next day. Things that I should be able to get past. If I brought up these things to someone, without the image of him I've painted or that awful night I've decribed, they would definitely suggest I get the hell over it. Sorts of things that the next day a friend would say "WHAT A DICK!!" but no one would expect me to still give a fuck about 9 years later. I guess a good example of what most of these memories entail is first a reminder that he was seeing my former best friend and I at the same time, both of us well aware, both of us needing the attention, but of course me feeling more entitled as I was not cheating on anyone. So there's a memory of she and I both being at his apartment. We did that a lot, not wanting the other to be alone with him. Although honestly it was her that always came to crash the party or whatever you'd say. I never had that in me. I was depressed from the day before, which was a clusterfuck of a bad memory in itself but that would take longer. I am of course nothing if not a stickler for brevity(hahahahaha!!!). So I finally had a break from her, and I was pissed at her from the day before, and was just laying in bed with Zach, when my ears focused in on the sound of a car driving up, her getting out, and calling my name very friendly like, so she could give the appearance that she was there to see me. I don't know who she expected to fall for that. So the three of us hung out as if everything was ok. It's really disgusting to look back on. I was such a marshmallow. Some times she and I had genuine friend moments, other times it was thinly veiled spite and competitiveness. He was out of the room for some reason, talking to someone on the phone maybe, and we had one of those random friend moments. We thought it would be funny to switch clothes, and see how long it took for him to say something, which we did. I can't remember how long it took for him to say anything. After a while the three of us were in bed together(NOT LIKE THAT, SILLY GEESE.) Another one of those competition things. I have no idea who got in first but we both took a side. After all, to not lie down, or to leave the room out of boredom or discomfort would be waving the white flag for the day, and relinquishing him until next time. So there we were. I was hoping we would all just hurry up and fall asleep. It was awkward, we weren't really talking about anything, and it was boring as hell. I was sort of zoning in and out, and then I realized they were kissing. In my clothes. She was kissing him in my clothes. It was a dinky as hell bed, and I was the one against the wall. I was trapped in a nightmare. Then Zach started groping me. I don't know if was hoping we were living in a porno and would just start having a threesome, or if he was just doing it because he could and he was drunk on his whole smugness. I've always assumed the latter. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore and got up and left. I don't remember what happened the rest of the day, but I do know I eventually threw the shirts out. I couldn't look at them any more. I actually did the same thing with what I called in my mind my 'rape shirt.' I transfer some of the stress of bad things onto places or objects involved. I couldn't stand the thought of tents for a few years either.

So that's the kind of memories a lot of those things are. 9 years of unkindness involving him in varying degrees, always latching on to me. My former best friend never did thank me for not ratting her ass out for all of this. Bitch. I should have. It would have changed everything.

Anyway, my point was that I dwell on everything. This, the tent thing is just the one thing it's "okay" to dwell about. The only thing it's not dumb as hell to not have gotten over. With all of these upsetting little moments, I always felt if I could just talk to him about them, tell him exactly how they made me feel, if I could get an apology for it, I could let some of it go. That night is the only thing I ever managed to bring up and not be admonished by him for it.

One of the last times I saw him last year, some time after that conversation with my friend, we went for a walk at night. I remember nothing of the conversation leading up to this point, but something we were talking about made me think it was time to broach the subject of 'The Tent Incident.' (It's just easier for me to call it that.) I think I was already slightly in tears before I said anything, so maybe we'd been having an emotional talk of some sort. Selective memory strikes again. I said "I need to ask you something about that night in Springfield(where it happened obviously)" I'm not sure if he said anything, but I did continue. I asked him if he thought what happened, what he did, was rape. There was silence, with me bracing for him getting mad at me for bringing it up. "For all intents and purposes(who says that in a conversation about rape?), yes." I started to cry more, and cracked out a "why?" He offered what I'm assuming was an honest answer, because I can't see it being a good lie. "I wasn't done yet."

And that's all I remember. I don't remember what was said next, if I got my desperately needed apology, if he comforted me, or what we did for the rest of the night. But I do know that it didn't give me any closure. I was always so certain that if I just got it off my chest to enough people over the past years, I'd get over it. If I just asked him if he thought it was rape, I'd get over it. But I didn't. I didn't get over that, and I certainly didn't get over the collection of bad moments we'd had leading up to and leading from that one. I've had therapy, talked to a million people a million times about this thing, and it never goes away. Tried "I release you, bad memories! I shall think of you no more!" type affirmations. None of those memories go away though, I can't trust the people I "trust" to get me through them, and thus far I've been unable to do it myself.

With little cuts and bigger cuts here and there, and little bad memories and larger bad memories here and there, sometimes I think one day I'll stop being a woman with scars, and one day become scars in the shape of a woman.

That first part is somewhat uneven. As I was typing it, I decided to bring it up with the person I'm mentioning, and the conversation helped me understand his logic a bit better, helped me remember the conversation I had with him better, but I can't say it helped me feel better about his conclusion. So that part was evolving as I typed this out and talked to him. It has brought me back to questioning if what happened was rape or not. If I'm never going to be able to firmly decide, will that decrease my chances to get past it at some point?
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