My psychiatrist recommended group therapy to me and as i refused she said that i should talk about my experiences with friends or something instead. Well i cannot do that irl so i thought i might post here.

Yesterday I had a meeting with my psychiatrist and no matter how often I tell her that the rape is no longer and issue, she decides to bring it up. “You are lying to yourself…this depression, this schizophrenia, it is coming from that BLAH BLAH BLAH”. Well, to be honest, she is probably right. In fact, I am sure she is right. It is not natural for rape to have no effect whatsoever on a person. So I am lucky enough (note the sarcasm) to describe my feelings throughout the ordeal all over again. Not just the actions I was forced to do; not just him cutting my palms (the right one lightly but the left one a bit too deep so I still have the ugly scar) so I could jerk him off until white liquid is mixed with red as he grunts in a way that makes me cringe more than the action. Not just watching the girl next to me sob and cry yank at her dirty blonde hair as the gun is pointed at her. Not just his ridiculously pale blue eyes that water and turn red with his effort as he attempts to be rough enough to hurt me as much as possible. “On your knees”. Which one of us? “The willing one”. The %#@&#! willing one. WILLING? As if I wanted to?! As if I enjoyed it?!? %#@&#! sick. %#@&#! SICK SICK SICK SICK.