Today.

He did it today for the first time again, four years ago. I have grown so much as a person, and I have gotten through do much. Every single fucking thing has happened to me in these four years. Everything. Experiencing simultaneous. He did it today. Probably just around this time. He entered into my room and closes the door behind me. I was sleeping in my mosquito net tucked inside my favorite thick blanket with my other two much younger siblings. I was at the corner of the bed. He comes, slips his hand inside the net, then inside the blanket, then then trying to slip it inside my clothes. My siblings were sleeping just beside me. They were so young. I WAS SO YOUNG. I can feel it you know, his hand, the emotions I felt back then. I can finally cry about today. February 29, I do not like you, at all, only if you just didn't exist at all. I really do feel it. Weirdly. I will probably be never able to let alone like a boy. Makes me sick to my stomach. And I'm so full of being around girls all my life. But I don't want to be alone, I deserve love too because I am human. This was not the only thing he took away from me. He took ME. I am just a body of what I used to be. Every birthday a new layer of skin grows all over me to cover that hollowness and I think I've grown better. No, I have not. I am still in so much pain. MY OWN MOTHER DIDN'T BELIEVE ME! Irrespective of how much I love her, things will never be the same between us. When she finally did believe after ig hour(s) and taking all the courage I had built up for the past nine years or those 25 something days starting today all she did was give him one single slap at 6 in the morning and told him never to enter our house again. It felt she did it more for her honor rather than what her fifteen-year daughter went through. And the worst part us when I told her he did much worse to me as a kid she barely listened and called it "LOVE". Love Must be a very, very wretched thing if it's what he did to me as a child. I yearn for myself. My father didn't even talk to me about it even though my mom told him. They never talked to me about it. I want them to see the pain I felt and still feel. I am not well. I am not. I don't know what it will take to get me "better", but this is not it. 

In another universe, I get to torcher and kill him in live television. All the other people who went through the same and my mom praises and hugs me and kisses me on the forehead and tells me I did the right thing and everything will be fine. My father comes along and says that his actions do not define me and that I am a very capable woman. 

Sometimes I just want to die just to escape these thoughts. I know his hands are not on me right now and I know there's no use of living in the past, but I really want someone to listen and to understand and actually do something about it. I'm so SICK AND TIERD. I SM GOING TO PUKE. He did it to me. A child. A teenager. HE was not the only one. Others did it too. Even last year, on the beach where those men tried to touch me while I was swimming beside my father. Is it what men are? Hurting machines? 

The men I read in books and the men I come across irl are worlds away. 

That was not LOVE. I cannot even find comfort in my own parents, or anyone. I'm just a pile of unfulfilled expectations. I am nothing. I want to scream. I want to hurt those who hurt me. I want them to know what it feels like, every living second. I see these people in strangers, in my friends, in the ones I love.

When I was around six, before it all began probably, I had this dream where everyone was an alien, and I was the only human. They were after me. Maybe that is what my entire life has been since then. I regret being a child.