I’m sick in the head, I’m sure.
I talked to my abuser this morning for about 30 minutes or so. He wanted to let me know that he’s still busy, that he can’t meet this week but maybe the next. I couldn’t help but want to pour everything out to him. I wanted to catch him up on things I’ve been up to, talking about the family, just catching up….
He told me again that he loves me. If I ever need him, he’s there for me.
It was a good conversation. I didn’t feel much- except for a weird nostalgic feeling. When we hung up, I was fine. I was thinking that it would be a bad idea to meet with him alone. But why?
I’m sick in the head for thinking that I don’t trust myself alone with him. I almost want him to touch me again. I almost want him to fuck me again so I can say, “See? See how much better I am?? See what you created??” I know as soon as I sit myself in front of his reach, I’ll be flirty. I won’t be able to help it. I am enamored with my rapist, with my childhood predator.
and I am sick for admitting this.
and admitting this is exactly what made me finally feel something. I’ve been so detached from the whole trauma. However, as soon as I realized how twisted I am for even thinking that I’d LET him fuck me, it tore at my insides. I almost started crying, but I stopped myself.
Right now I want nothing more than to ageplay… I want to fall into my little space, throw knee high socks on, have my hair brushed. I want a sippy cup, stuffies, a blanket, and Adventure Time. I want coloring books, and pillows. I want to be taken care of and NOT be fucked, or throat fucked, or abused. I want to be loved and taken care of innocently. That’s it.