Hi. Chances are, if you still follow me on here, you know me from a past life, by a different name. A life and a name that I’ve been trying my hardest to run away from for ten years.
I can finally say it. He groomed me. He hurt me. And it’s taken me all this time to be able to realize it and identify it. I refuse to use his name anymore because he lost all credibility and respect years ago.
I was 19 when we started talking, 21 when he died. What business does a 40something have talking to a 20-year-old? Yeah, fine, I was young and naive and dumb, but that’s all the more reason why he should have known. But he didn’t (or, more likely, he did and just didn’t give a shit), and I’ll have PTSD for the rest of my goddamn life.
I know you didn’t believe in Hell, but wherever you are, I hope you know that I’m still here, I’m still alive, and I’m stronger than you ever thought I could be. Which is more than you can say, you fucking disgusting creep.
“You have no power over me.”
