I really just needed to vent for a minute.
I hope this is the right place.

Anyway. I've just been so frustrated lately. I'm not mad at him, I'm mad at myself. And I'm not mad, I'm pissed off. I'm angry. I'm seething.
I was old enough to know better. I was old enough to know that what he was doing was wrong. And I purposely chose not to tell anyone. It's my fault.
He was my uncle and it's because of me not telling anyone that I ruined my cousin's life by not protecting her. I should have told someone and I didn't.

I try to convince myself that it wasn't my fault, that I really was innocent and I didn't do anything wrong. But it's wrong to not tell someone when you're being sexually abused, and it's REALLY wrong when someone you know is being sexually abused and you don't say anything. That makes you just as bad as the person who is abusing them, doesn't it? I had a responsibility to tell someone and I purposely chose not to tell anyone.

And then I didn't stop him. I could have fought back and I didn't. I could have kicked or screamed but I didn't. UGH. FDJSL:FDJLSA:. UGH. Oh my god. Seriously. It's just, I'm so pissed off at myself. I was so stupid and I didn't do anything about it. And years later, I'm still keeping quiet about it. And my cousin blamed me for what happened. She must be right. It was my fault. She wouldn't have been forced to live with him if I had only spoken up.

And I'm so pissed off with myself for letting him control me so much. He controls every part of me. My mind, my thoughts. I wasted so many months in a psychotic haze thinking he was after me, thinking he was going to come back and attack me or something. All of those months I could have been doing something for myself, and I wasted them thinking about him. He controls my sleep. Every nightmare I have, I see him there. It's like, it's my fault that he's controlling me. It happened so long ago, he shouldn't be in my thoughts like this. He shouldn't be there all the time. He's gone. I won't see him again. But it still feels like he's there.

I had to have done something to deserve what happened. There's no way that it just happened because it could. It's like... Ugh. God, why did you let this happen? Did I do something wrong? Was I not good enough to be spared from this? I had to have done something wrong. Otherwise this would have never happened. And I don't know what I did, but it must have been bad enough to deserve what happened. Bad things don't happen to good people.

And now here I am. Complaining about what happened. It's not even as bad as what some others have been through, but now I'm complaining. Like a baby. Ugh, I'm just so mad at myself. All of this stuff is coming up, the nightmares, the flashbacks. And I know it's my fault. No one can convince me it wasn't. There must've been something, somewhere, that I did wrong to deserve what happened, but I know I did deserve it. I'm not even mad at him. I'm just mad at myself.