How dare you say I wasn't molested.

I'm sick and tired of family members telling my mom they don’t think I was molested. You don’t hear the conversations I have with Marina and Tena at 2:00 in the morning when all I want is to kill myself. You can’t see the scars on my boobs, on my hips, on my thighs, on my fucking vagina. You don’t see me when I’m hiding behind teachers desks, bawling my eyes out, shaking, as wave after wave of flashbacks hit me. You don’t hold me during panic attacks. You can’t feel how badly I want to rip my skin from my body; rip my tits off; slice every inch of me off until I am nothing, until I can’t feel his hands all over me.

I apologize that I was scared to come forward earlier. I’m sorry that years of scrubbing my skin to get the feel of him off of me, has made his cum disappear. I’m sorry I don’t have a video of him forcing me to give him a blow job. I’m sorry no one walked in the room when he was crushing me. I’m sorry. Believe me, I wish there was more “proof”. Do you think I feel safe or okay having only my words to prove what he did? If I wasn’t trying to save my sister, do you think I would have come forward? No. Because I KNEW this is what I would face. I knew people wouldn’t believe me. I knew it. What do I have to do to make you believe me? Record myself slicing my ribs, my boobs, my stomach and thighs to shreds? Record me wrapping belts around my neck; record myself making piles of pills; record myself scratching at my skin, trying to rip myself apart; record myself bawling, waking up from night terrors; just to prove I mean it?

Fuck everyone that has the balls to call me a liar. Fuck you all.
I’ve had the courage to come forward about YEARS of sexual, physical, and verbal abuse. Don’t call me a coward for not coming forward earlier. And don’t call me a liar.
The human race disgusts me… My family disgusts me.

This has been such a horrible day. Such a mother fucking horrible day.