On Pain

Surviving my past is not simply hard and exhausting – it so damned painful, that sometimes I want go back into prostitution and kill the agony.

Just imagine being inside my body – imagine and give me a very good reason why I should not harm myself.

Coz think that harming yourself, is nothing to do with death, it only a way to run away from knowing the visceral reality of being sexually tortured.

Being sexually tortured from round 6 to 27, that is too long for my mind and body to handle.

Being sexually tortured so that I lose any sense of pain – only now I am safe and changed my life around, all the layers of their hate and ways to degrade me are crashing into every cell of my body.

Imagine having to live with my throat.

A throat that wants to close up, a throat that is scared to swallow, a throat that want to spew out all their hate.

A throat that knew too much. Knew about blow-jobs too young. Knew not to bite, but to be nice to a penis that was killing her.

Imagine having to live with my stomach.

A stomach that cannot stop feeling, even after over an hour of coughing, sitting, being sick and chocking.

Nothing empty out their sickness.

It may ease if I write or talk, but just ease it come back late viciously.

My stomach knows the truth, and it can’t stop being sick until it is fully understood and believed.

Imagine having my cunt.

Imagine how often I have wanted to rip it out, thinking that get rid of the memory.

I don’t want that cunt was conquered, with conquerors who slash and burnt away everything that makes my cunt part of my essence.

I was left with a space polluted by more men than my mind want to know.

All my cunt was a hole to be filled by penises, objects, hands, fists, tongues, teeth and anything else their porn-filled minds could think of.

I nearly lost my cunt.

Imagine trying to get it back.

Imagine having my anus.

Please go into that pain and have pity for it.

Imagine how detached I had to be to survived so much anal raping.

Know it happened so often, and always so violent that I had to drink whisky to kill a little of the pain.

Imagine that you anally raped so often, that you do not know the language of rape.

All you can do to survive and keep your mind, is to tell yourself that you a person who deserve to be in agony, you are that bad a person.

Know that the pain from that much anal violence does not go away – it just gets worse the safer your life becomes.

The pain demands to known after years of being forcefully closed away.

Imagine sitting down reminds, imagine laying on your back reminds, imagine fear of the toilet.

Imagine that when it bad you can get anal bleeding still, imagine that it makes you faint.

These are some of the real harms I have to live with

I live with pain, but it does reminds why I fight the sex trade with so much passion.

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One response to “On Pain

  1. “Imagine that you anally raped so often, that you do not know the language of rape.”
    This is what angers me about the apologists for the sex trade- they completely ignore the fact that women and girls who have been raped over and over again will lack the very language to describe their violation as rape.

    Those of us like me who are privileged enough to be outside this world have to have the courage to say ‘that is rape’, ‘that is torture’. Otherwise we fail as feminists, and as decent human beings.

    Like

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