I talk about you in the past tense and people avert their eyes with sympathy.
I’m feeling a lot of emotions, but I don’t know if any of them are remorse.
I figured this ring would be with me forever. A reminder that I wasn’t good enough.
The one memory I won’t forget about all of this was the next week in school. Being in a crowded cafeteria & making eye contact with my attacker. I was surrounded by people but no one knew what that look meant.
Bob told me the job was actually for private lap dancing parties; he liked my photos and thought I was a perfect candidate.
Sex is not everything. Sex is not nothing. Sex is sex.
Did I see the drop coming? Of course.
I kissed boys at bars. I gave out my phone number. I texted old hook ups. I loved having these secrets from him because for once I was doing things that he didn’t know about, and because he didn’t know, he couldn’t judge me.
I want to say that I strongly believe that if someone had spoken with our class about the lines we don’t cross when we interact with other people, that if the message and expectation had been clearly communicated to us, none of this had to happened.
A miserable looking 30-something woman was trailing the frantic looking 30-something man and he kept yelling, “Can you hold these for me!? Can you hold onto these for me?! Listen, listen, I need to get in line! We only have a half an hour! Christ, I need to get in line! Hold these now, please!”