You don't know me

My name is Merissa.

You don’t know me.

You don’t know the pain I’ve felt,

Or the trauma I’ve experienced,

Just like I don’t know you and what you’ve been through…

 

When I’m walking down the street,

On the sidewalks of campus,

Or in the hallways, or at the store,

You would never look at me and know my life story.

You wouldn’t know that I’m hiding a disgusting secret,

A secret that should have never been mine to keep,

Something that should have never been my burden…

 

When you look at me, do you see a victim?

Does my head tilted down at the ground when I walk by give you a sign?

How would you know that the reason I cover myself is because I’d rather disappear?

I can’t look some men in the eyes,

No, not because I’m shy.

Unfortunately, it only takes one poisonous touch to deter me from trusting a certain male stature.

 

Yes, I judge men, just as I am judged as a woman,

Anyone resembling the man who hurt me,

With bushy eyebrows and an ear piercing,

A short frame and nonchalant stride,

A frightening reminder that I feel inferior,

That any man large enough with an intimidating exterior may hurt me,

Maybe in the same way I was hurt before,

Raped.

 

There, I said it,

So now you know.

The ‘r’ word that people throw around as a joke,

The very word that shocks my existence when I hear it out of context,

Even in context, I hate that word.

I never used to have this reaction to it,

Just as those hearing this poem who haven’t been affected may not feel the shiver down their spine,

But two months ago I learned that it’s a trigger word.

 

If you knew me before it happened,

You’d know that I’m careful,

A planner, someone who never spontaneously acts or reacts,

Who tried to be carefree as I threw caution to the wind,

Making it not even a week before I was broken,

Only to be forced into a new reality, like I was forced and touched,

A violation of my body.

 

Now I’m paranoid, anxious, confused,

Wondering why I ever had to learn the darkest side of humanity,

Wondering why me?

And then as I watched a close friend going through the same thing,

I would wonder why her?

I wasn’t even allowed to escape the pain for two months before I had to help someone else through this.

How messed up is that?

That I wasn’t even able to cope before it happened again, to someone as undeserving as I was?

That now I have to watch her confusion and her pain?

Why should I have to share such a bond with someone?

I love helping her, but I hate that we have to know the same torture.

 

After it happened, I wanted to pretend nothing was wrong,

I wanted to keep it to myself,

I only told my roommate and my ex-boyfriend,

But he blamed me for inviting my assailant over,

Even though the person who did this promised me left and right that it was a study date,

And took back that promise as soon as he took from me what he wanted.

If someone who used to love me could blame me for that,

Then who could I even trust anymore?

 

I told another friend the next day,

After I failed an exam and spent the majority of the day crying,

Only having a half hour of sleep in my system.

She called in to work, and we went to the hospital,

Where I spent almost 10 hours going through the process,

Telling countless strangers about my problems,

Crying in front of them,

Alone in my hospital room,

My friends unable to see me, stuck in the waiting room,

Waiting as I told the police officer,

Waiting as I made my decision to get the rape kit.

As I cried, wondering if my parents would be mad at me,

Wondering if I could handle taking two exams the next day at school,

Could you believe it?

I was worried about such normal life issues,

Meanwhile I was completely broken up about something that should never be considered normal,

Something that changed my life forever.

Now I’d give almost anything to have such trivial issues to worry about.

I’d rather worry about my appearance or family issues or school,

Rather than worrying about the investigation.

 

When I went home for winter break,

I thought I was escaping my college town, where it happened,

I thought that my nightmare of him would remain there,

But it followed me.

I went to a party where someone I used to call a friend sexually assaulted my newest friend,

And no one knew about it,

I found out the next day from my so-called friend, and then I never spoke to him again,

I contacted her, took her to the hospital,

Where once again I spent almost 10 hours going through the process with her,

Tears and confusion,

But I was allowed to stay by her side for 9 hours of the torture,

And even though I wished I had that for me not even two months before,

I would have never let her go through this alone like I had.

Not after I knew what it did to someone,

What it did to me.

 

In the evenings I get into my own head about things,

I feel estranged and distanced from normal life,

My existence plagued by the memories which trigger at the most unexpected times.

I wonder how I’ll finish school after failing my classes that semester,

I wonder how I could hold a job like my parents want me to,

I wonder how I could ever truly love someone and not be fearful of them,

I wonder how to tell people, or if I should tell them, or what people would think of me.

 

When the New Year rang in for 2015,

I was with someone I’ve grown to love, my best friend,

Possibly the only person who makes me feel even half normal,

And we sat down and I read him a poem about the man who hurt me,

We shared tears and I realized that as long as I have his support, I don’t care what anyone else thinks.

 

My resolution for the year is to live fearlessly,

With inspiration from my best friend,

And so the first thing I want to do to live fearlessly is to be completely honest,

With not just myself, but everyone,

Because what do I need to hide?

 

I could wallow in fear, or I could speak out and try to inspire other people to do the right thing,

To end rape culture,

Where the victim is blamed,

Where women are taught to not get raped, instead of men being taught to not rape,

Where the media twists stories of people like Bill Cosby,

Saying that it’s more likely that dozens of women were lying rather than believing he could be that sick,

Where male victims are ostracized because people believe it only happens to women.

 

Let’s end the mindset where rape is joked about,

And let’s stress the importance that only a freely-given yes is consent,

While everything else is not consent.

The absence of no is not consent,

Being intoxicated is not consent,

And it doesn’t matter what you’re wearing, because even if you’re half naked, that’s not consent,

That doesn’t mean you were asking for it,

No one ever asked to be raped.

 

If people would just open their eyes,

Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to see the distorted image that society has painted.

Consent is sexy!

In fact, it's required.

 

My name is Merissa.

You don’t know me.

You don’t know the pain I’ve felt,

Or the trauma I’ve experienced,

Just like I don’t know you and what you’ve been through…

But if you’re ever faced with the hardships of what I’ve faced,

I’d never turn my back on you.

Author's Note

What started as a poem turned into a confession. I don't want constructive criticism about form or style. I just need affirmation that if I performed this piece, that it might get a positive reception. Base your reviews on the content.

Reviews

[Poems]

WOW!!! When I first looked at the length of this I passed it up. I came back just to see what it was about and I'm really shocked at what you wrote. I can't tell you how many girls I've talked to on this site that were raped. Its like an epidemic. I've never met anyone who joked about rape. I've never thought it could be funny in any way.

I agree with all your feelings about how no means no and so on. No woman should ever be taken advantage of by anyone including her own boyfriend or husband. The fact that you stayed with your friend through all that shows what type of person you are. Your ending confirms it. You're very brave and I wish you never had to go through what you did. You're very special. I wish you nothing but the best.

100/100

[Frank]

A difficult subject, painful. You have written a complicated tale and it sounds true, it rings true and you have described the situation well, and the aftermath of the event. And its true, we don't know you, and we don't know the pain you have been through. It would benefit from rigorous pruning in my opinion, and although you may feel that is violating your work it may bring the story-line more in to sharp focus. Fewer words can be better, well done.

[wordman]

well it takes a lot of courage to lay it all out there
I hope it doesn't distort life for you and you can put it behind and learn to trust and to love
because your well being depends on it life wasn`t kind to you but it`s how you live here after
that will determine your life