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I should be writing. Getting things out of my mind and onto a computer screen, hoping it'll smoothen things out a bit. Lately my evenings have consisted of : Homework. Elephant by Damien Rice. Spider Solitaire games. Crying. Ranting. Crying. Repeat.
I don't know how people will react. I'm still having doubts whether or not it's worth making such a big deal about. But this has effected me, no one can deny that. My panic attacks are back and random and frequent as ever. I can't eat. I'm sort of losing appetite. I feel no desire to eat, not even comfort foods...that's scaring the crap out of me. I'm overly-sensitive, overly-aggressive. Violent at times. Can't concentrate in class and in constant stress..
I just wish it would all just go away. But it can't. And everything worsens when you learn that, after a whole weekend of not looking you straight in the eye, your father yells at you that it's your own fucking fault, like you put this on yourself. Hooray for support.
Gah. there I go complaining again. Would it be therapeutic to write an imaginary letter to the fucker who did this to me? Let's hope so...

Dear J.R.
You probably think you didn't do anything wrong. Just fooling around. Acting on impulse, accomplishing a desire. I don't know. I don't know if you ever thought things through beforehand..I just know that you lead me to think that if anyone found out, Felix would hate me and break up with me, and your girlfriend would break up with you as well and break your heart. But tell me, how can you love someone and fuck around behind her back? I think you're sick. You manipulated me; I believed you because you were some sort of best friend for me, and I was scared for myself and felt pity towards you. So I kept it all to myself. And kept it going. I was absent. You came to me every time I felt down, every time I was weak and didn't know right from wrong. And you abused me; told me I wanted this too; took advantage of my confusion and distress to soothe your perverted needs. I was just absent. I put this at the back of my mind. It happened at least every week; you wouldn't waste a minute alone with me..For three months, you made me feel vile and disgusting, for three months you convinced me I was cheating on my boyfriend, for three months I was put in the place of the accomplice, and not the victim...I never said no; but I never said yes. You made me not think, you dominated me, I was your toy and too scared to fight back. (what happened to the strong-willed, bold, straight-forward, quick-thinking Justine?) Now, a month or so after this is all over, I finally realize what you made me go through. Why I'm so fucked up in my mind, and my body. I hate your smell, I hate your hands. Just looking at you when we're in class sends shivers running down my spine. When our eyes meet I want to scream and hit something hard. And I have to put up with this every day at school...And you still think you're innocent.
It hurts having to admit it to the people I love. That I've been living a masquerade all this time. Do you know what it feels like to see the sadness in their eyes, to hear their useless "I'm so sorry"s and to answer their heart-wrenching questions?
I just wish you knew the hell you put me through, and are still putting me through.
Don't answer. I don't think an apology would do much to me. Just count yourself lucky that my boyfriend and my friends didn't beat you to death.