#ok but he is onto something with the whole mint addiction thing

[0vergrowngraveyard]

i’m very normal whenever i eat anything mint

[finelinevogue]

Hi can you write wondering about Harry proposing! Do you think it would be angsty like Harry is being all secretive and detached until the reader confronts him and he tells the truth or do you think it would be complete fluff or maybe he proposes during sex?? I have no idea. You’re just a great writer so I know you can do it.

ok i actually have a cute idea for this so if you’re a tea lover stick with it ;)

You were a tea addict.

Green, lemon, breakfast, Yorkshire, PG Tips; you name it and you had an addiction for it. It was your can’t-live-without drink.

You’d always have a cup of Yorkshire tea in the morning to start to the day, which was often brought up to you via your loving boyfriend Harry - who was up earlier than always necessary - and then you’d have green tea in the afternoon, and finally you’d have another tea in the evening to send you sleep. It was an addiction, maybe… You loved it so much though and were ridiculously grouchy without it.

It was known that you liked it so much to the point where that’s what people would buy you for your birthday. Tea sets or mugs or spoons or pots. In fact, you got a tea tasting afternoon as a gift once and it was the most wonderful day because it was filled with your two favourite things - tea and Harry. Harry had then took you out for another afternoon to a Paint-A-Pot shop, where you got to paint an item of your choice. You both chose to paint individual tea mugs and then also painted a tea pot together. It was the best date activity he’d ever come up with. He was in love with the worlds biggest tea addict and he knew it.

In fact, he was so in tune with the fact you loved tea that he was walking into the room right now with your steaming hot mug of Yorkshire tea.

“Good morning gorgeous.” Harry smiled when he saw your eyes faintly open, watching him cross your bedroom. The covers were up to your nose and your hair was definitely a mess, but he didn’t quite with the compliments.

He had a cup of tea for him, too, in his hands, because you’d managed to get him hooked.

“Hello handsome.” You chuckled, sitting up in bed, bringing the duvet up with you to cover your bare chest and taking the cup from his hands. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling today?”

Harry clambered into bed next to you, laying his body on top of the covers. He was only in his boxers and a necklace - a necklace in which you had made for him when you were bored one weekend. He had made you a bracelet and you had made him a necklace. It was made out of an array of rainbow beads and a little extra pearl bead that had your first initial engraved into it.

“Tired.”

“I’m not surprised after last night.”

“You didn’t have to be so rough.” You took your first sip from your tea, loving that first burn onto your lips and tongue from the hot water.

“Wait, baby, was I really that rough?” Harry asked quickly, putting down his mug on the table to give you his undivided attention. He turned on his side, and you used one of your free hands to play with the necklace you’d gifted him.

“No,” you spoke softly, “no, you were perfect.” You pulled him in by his necklace to give him a kiss, it tasting like mint and tea.

“I love you.” He whispered against his lips, and giving him a few extra pecks to affirm that you felt the same way.

Harry moved away to pick up his tea, and his phone to check his daily notifications. He’d turned off all his social media notifications so he didn’t have to worry about them, but he did turn on all notifications for you on those apps. He hated to miss when you posted something. He would always pride himself on being the first like and the first comment. He loved that it was usually him that had taken the photos or him that had made you laugh in that particular photo. His notifications normally consisted of work messages from Jeff or messages from his mum reminding him to wish a family member ‘happy birthday’.

“Anything important today?” You always asked him this question, in case it affected you or Harry just needed someone to talk to about a certain issue. You took a few more sips as he began talking.

“Mum’s just bought a new cat and sent me about 30 photos of them! My grandad’s sent me my joke of the day and Jeff’s sent me some information I need to read over for tour.”

“A new cat ooh show me the photos!”

“I’ll send them to you.”

You smiled so brightly when the photos came through, drinking the rest of your tea so that you could spend your time looking at the newest addition to the Styles’ family.

But you couldn’t.

“Harry…”

“Yes my love?” He asked, with a smirk to his face.

“Wha—”

“Hmm?”

You blinked back the tears in your eyes, making sure you were reading the bottom of your mug right, lips parted slightly from shock.

“You...”

“Mhm?” He prompted you.

“Yes.” You answered. “Yes, yes, fucking yes!”

“Yes?” Harry laughed in shock, putting his stuff on the side of the table, as did you, in preparation for you leaping on him. You landed with a grunt from him and wasted no time planting your lips on his. You deepened your kiss with him, pushing your lips and your whole body into him. Your hips grounded down, making him grunt in sexual frustration. “Wait, wait.”

He stopped you both and reached over to the drawer, making you pout from being without his warmth. He pulled out a royal blue velvet box and opened it up in front of you, making you gasp in awe. It was the most perfect ring you’d seen. It was simple and beautiful. You couldn’t get over how he’d chosen so perfectly.

“Harry it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah I thought so too.” He smiled, reaching for your left hand to slide it onto your ring finger. “Sits beautifully there too.”

You couldn’t waste a second more to not have his lips on yours, so you you dove down and captured his plump lips to yours. You could feel the love bursting from his cherry lips, filling you up and making you fee so warm.

“When did you do all this?” You asked breathlessly, taking a moment away from his lips and kissing down his jaw and neck.

“Went back to that paint a pot thing, didn’t I? I had the idea the other day to combine tea and me for the proposal and this was the best way to do it! Was it alright? I can do it again if—”

You cut him off with your lips before he said something he didn’t mean. “It was perfect.” Your tears were trickling down your face in patterns.

“You are perfect, future Mrs Styles.”

“I’ve always been future Mrs Styles.” You cockily added to the moment, making him chuckle into a stretch.

“And now you have a ring to prove it.”

[whatadaze]

ok i’m sorry guys. i thought it’d be funny to prank ya’ll @skamyeets was nice enough to play along with me hahaha we would never do you guys dirty like that ;) the REAL *clip* has dropped

Liv had let herself imagine it.

Once, after she sat beside him that day.

She spent those few seconds before she announced her presence just studying the slight curve of his lips and the relaxed comfort in his eyes. 

She let her imagine it then and wondered if kissing him would make her feel something close to what he might be feeling as he flipped through the pages of his worn book. 

Because ever since she moved from Paris, she had forgotten how it felt—passion, love, desire, hope, inspiration. 

But then she saw him and suddenly, a flicker of those emotions returned.

So she let herself imagine it, just for a few seconds—five at most. And then she announced her presence and she saw the shock in his blue eyes. His blue eyes that looked like a great, big wave coming towards her. 

Little did she know, that’s exactly what Noah Boom would become in her life. 

A great big wave, 

except this time, 

she found herself swimming towards it rather than running away. 

******

They manage to make it back to his place in one piece.

Liv trips over her own foot as she stumbles through the front door and at first she thinks the laughter she hears is coming from her, but instead, it’s coming from the boy stumbling in after her. 

Noah has a grin on his face that makes him appear much younger than his age and it only makes her want to kiss him more, so she does. 

And the door slams shut from Liv pushing Noah’s body against it, her lips already addicted to his. The kiss makes her breathless but she feels like she can’t breathe if she isn’t kissing him. 

And even though Liv has never gotten high, she assumes that this is what it feels like and suddenly she realizes why addicts always come back for more. 

Because in this moment, her mind, her body, her soul, is screaming at Liv to keep going back for more, and more and more.

So she does. 

******

“I knew you liked me.”

Liv brings her knees up to her chest as Noah hands her a mug of tea. She nurses it between her hands and smiles up at him. 

“I think you liked me first,” he retorts. 

His eyes shine with amusement as he takes a seat beside her, leaving a bit of distance between them. 

“I think you’re becoming much more confident with your words, Mr. Boom,” she says, scooting closer to him. “I have that effect on people I guess.” 

It’s like her body won’t rest unless a part of her is touching him and she wonders if Noah feels the same way. 

“I want to be,” he says softly. 

Her attention is drawn back to his words and she tilts her head. 

“Confident,” he explains, clearing his throat. “When I’m with you...I feel like I can be.” 

And suddenly, those butterflies that appeared when they were sitting up at the playground quickly return. Liv sets her mug down on the floor and climbs onto his lap, guiding his hands to her waist. 

“Me too,” she admits. “You make me want to be a better person.” 

“You’re a good person, Liv,” he says, resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Mhmm.”

“And how do you know that?” 

Noah sends a shy smile her way. 

“I just know.” 

******

Noah asks her if she wants to spend the night, 

his ears bright red but his eyes never leaving hers. 

It only takes Liv one second, maybe even less, to say yes. 

“You can’t get rid of me just yet, Mr. Boom,” she says, sliding into his bed. 

Liv expects Noah to get in beside her but then he’s taking off his shirt and suddenly she’s become very interested in her nails. Isa insisted on painting them bright red during class and she wonders if her face is currently the same shade. 

And as Noah finally gets into bed, it suddenly feels too warm as Liv becomes aware of the fact that Noah’s naked chest is less than a foot away from her. Almost too aware. It’s the only thing she can think about in this moment. 

“Are you trying to seduce me?” she asks, trying to hide her shaky voice. “Because it’s working.” 

Noah’s eyes widen and he looks as if he is about to jump out of his bed and wear a full on hazmat suit in the next five seconds. Liv grabs his arm before he even has a chance to move away and places a light kiss on his shoulder. 

“I’m kidding,” she says with a smile. “I guess I’m a bit nervous.” 

His body seems to relax and he settles back onto the mattress. He doesn’t move away when she nestles to his side.  

“You’ve slept over before...” 

“Well that was before we kissed,” she tells him, resting her head on his chest. “It’s different now. Don’t you think?” 

Noah’s face turns red but he nods. 

“When you kissed me,” she says, her eyes softening as they look up at him. “I felt it again.” 

Liv rests her hands on his shoulders and gently pulls herself up so that their foreheads are touching. She can almost taste the mint of his toothpaste when she breathes in and her lips are tingling as they itch to move closer and closer. 

“Felt what?” 

She hears his breath hitch as she places a light kiss on the corner of his lips, and then his jaw. She wants to tell him that she’s been feeling more inspired in the last few weeks with him than she has felt in the last couple years. That when she thinks about him, lyrics spill out of her lips and a gentle melody flows through her head. 

She wants to tell him that when he kissed her, it was like her whole body was on fire and the only thing that could put it out were his lips, his teeth, his tongue. That his touch is the only thing her body will ever crave and she doesn’t think she could ever get enough of him. 

She wants to tell him all of these things but her mind is becoming cloudy with every second her lips aren’t on his. She can’t seem to form words or think of a way for all of this to make sense. So just before she finally closes the small distance between their lips, her body trembling as it relishes in the feeling of him, she utters the one word that she can think of in the moment.

“Everything.” 

[recalibr8]

The mEtOHd in my madness

I’d been out with my teen lads on a Friday. We got off the train and there was a young, crumpled woman sat on the platform, fat tears splashing into a puddle of sick on her trench coated lap. I offered her some tissues; I’m a mum, it come with the membership card. After a few sorries she asked “where did you stop?”. It took us a while to realise she meant, ‘where are we?’ She was out by 2 stations which on the face of it wasn’t bad. We pointed her onto the next train, gave her a mint (gold membership benefits) and my youngest shouted “take care of yourself” as we trudged up the platform. We agreed it was probably work drinks getting out of bounds and she’d be ok now she had tissues. But I kept thinking, “where did you stop?”. Where did I stop? Because I’m now AF af.

AF af. That’s alcohol free and doing pretty darn ruddy brilliant. Three months ago I upgraded my BrewDog to NannyState, went Becks Blue and am thinking in an offhand way about brewing Kombucha. I’ve teamed this up with going plasticlite, veganish and kimchi curious. So far, so middle class virtual signalling. But where did I stop?

I’ve been drinking since I was 5. I’d adorably finish up the beer in my parents’ guests glasses and well, kept going. Not in a Drew, Carrie or Liza rehab by 13 sense but I think I’ve probably had my fair share. I’m well aware that I knew, know and don’t know but suspect people who I love who have significant alcohol use problems and this is blog is in no way trying to say my needs are greater than theirs. I know a lot of highly creative endeavours and friendships were found in a gin bottle but also unforgivable abuses. And I know friends whose acts are based around the camaraderie of drinking. And I’d never tell anyone what they *should* do. But like all ex anybodies, I’m annoying about my sobriety journey right now. Bear with me.

But it’s not just me though. I see booze everywhere. For a dose related lethal toxin that’s very effective marketing. There’s a giant ad on Toots Broadway station entreating me to Go Bottomless and every other Facebook ad is for a spirit that promises to make evenings round the back of Catford Lidl magical. And many of these are aimed at women. A recent industry survey found ‘only’ 17% of women drank beer and this needed sorting out. Look out for more lady drinking adverts, they’re coming.

But I wasn’t alcoholic. Was I? Are you? You’re only an alcoholic if you have one more drink than you doctor. I’m

a doctor ... so let’s take a look.

*I’m really low on the alcoholic check list*

I’ve never drank alcohol in the morning, blacked out, been told by others I have a problem, had to apologise...

Ah, I have had to apologise once or twice. Nothing major, just ‘sorry, I was a bit wobbly/silly/rude/loud/insulting/gave you my shoes as a gift’. I once lost my credit and oyster card at the bar of a immersive theatre event though. I don’t know how I got home. I had to find the site manager the next day and he definitely had other things to do. Not long after my bag was stolen in SoHo because I was distracted. Not sure how I got home then either. Friends put me in an Uber after my MA showcase because I wasn’t walking very straight. Or being very nice. So I definitely remember getting home then.

These were all Thursdays or weekends. I’ve always been careful not to have any chance of affecting my work. But yeah, how clear headed was I for my family, myself? And much of this was stress drinking after a week of being a clever doctor. Just loosened up the joints a bit. Particularly if your slightly socially awkward. But I wasn’t a drunk, no. Maybe just a binge drinker. And that’s ok, isn’t it?

*Hangovers are just a thing*.

With only drinking at the end of the week, I was careful not to be hungover at work. But I had a Friday at home hangover where I didn’t get out of bed for the day. I claimed I’d been poisoned. I’d just had one too many Jaegerbombs. I vomited in the taxi. I’ve vomited in several taxis. That’s not a good look at any age. Hangovers are a funny meme, a cartoon of a dog in sunglasses, office banter. It’s your liver crying and your brain folding it’s arms in judgment. It’s not bad wine, it’s bad choices.

*Get kids used to drinking. Like the French. Then they won’t binge*.

My 13 year old buys old vodka bottles from charity shops. Wearing a furry hat, his comedy drunk Russian is not bad I used to have the deepest voice of my friends at 14 so it was my job to buy the booze for house parties. My mother always told me drink a pint of milk before you go out to soak up the booze. At 14. I had a few sexual assaults along the way but if I blame myself that’s victim blaming and I don’t want to be a bad feminist on top of everything. Med school in the 80’s/90’s was all over the drink. Freshers’ week was a booze insurance test. The circle line pub crawl, the Clint Eastwood Appreciation Society, the Med School pub crawl...end at Barts because Smithfield’s liscence meant you’d keep going all night.

*Booze always cheers you up*.

I’ve got to confess, my life has got a lot quieter. I’m going out much less, I leave early, I’m not champagne Charlie any more. I’m always, well, me. My dad was a depressed alcoholic, so was his dad (he ran a tobacconist and offie so that didn’t help) and his dad before him. And I have depression and PTSD. My moods are now not so high, but they are also not so low. This is very strange. I’m hoping this is a good thing. I’ve heard it is. This, this is the mEtOHd in my madness. The mood stabilisation. That’s the plan.

*Being a doctor is just one of those boozey jobs*

Fun quiz! Who do you think drinks the most? Enough to have a problem. Oooh, were good at guessing this in ED. Writers must be bad, farmers, journalists! yes, they’re always drunk, private invsestigators (?), airline pilots (like my dad, I saw what those guys put away). Ok...it’s.

Lawyers - reporting 33% with problematic drinking

Construction workers- 16.5%

Miners -17.5%

Then it’s Healthcare workers, especially doctors (oh no). A. 2012 study of American surgeons published in JAMA Surgery found 15.4 percent had an alcohol use disorder. Female surgeons (25.6 percent) were more likely than male surgeons (13.9 percent) to exhibit symptoms of alcohol addiction. Healthcare professionals in general it’s 10%

https://www.drugrehab.com/addiction/common-professions/

Performing artists and writers - 11.5%

Catering/hospitality -11%

So no pilots then? I think there’s something they’re not telling us or things are much better since the 80’s. 


 A 1998 study of junior doctors in Newcastle-upon-Tyne reported that:

* 60% exceeded the recommended safe limits for alcohol consumption

* 36% of males and 20% of females used cannabis 

The Sick Doctors Trust says “Since our working lives are spent helping others, it is easy to push aside our own problems, in addition to which, denial is quite common in medical staff. This is not deliberate, but a part of the whole illness of addiction. That addiction is a chronic illness which therefore requires treatment as for any other condition, is now well-established but there is still a tendency to feel that it is a sign of weakness, and that maybe things aren't 'that bad'.’

That some individuals are more prone to developing addiction is generally agreed. There is no single determining factor, but usually a combination of biological, psychosocial and environmental factors - a mixture of nature and nurture. There is now much evidence implicating dysfunction in the Dopamine transmitter system & it’s involvement in craving. There is also evidence to suggest that the effect alcohol has on an individual’s brain is genetically determined. A family history is present in many alcoholics- those having direct family affected being more at risk...

*Its a family affair*

I went to Adult Children of Alcoholics once. It wasn’t for me but what they said made total sense. I take responsibility for everyone, I’m primed for betrayal and disaster and I totally thrive in emotional drama. My dad wasn’t a nice drunk. He made my mum drink when pregnant ‘to keep him company’. She in turn gave babies a tot of brandy to keep them quiet as a stewardess and I can’t imagine my permanently shouting parents wouldn’t have liked us to be quiet babies too. So I’ve got pre and postnatal form. But I don’t have to fix them now. Particularly dad. It’s quite hard to fix dead people.

https://adultchildren.org/

*Booze: the solution AND cause of all of life’s difficulties*

Sick Doctors again “ Alcohol is the commonest substance of abuse in all doctors. Drinking will surprisingly continue despite negative consequences such as job difficulties, relationship breakdowns, financial problems, loss of driving licence; the alcoholic is driven by an irrational compulsion to continue, and frequently results in despair to the point of suicide. Fortunately, the depression associated with active alcoholism often abates when sober.”

http://sick-doctors-trust.co.uk/page/addiction

*I’m not an alcoholic*

and you probably aren’t either. But you might have problematic drinking. I did a survey as part of an UCLH research project. You can too. I lied a bit on it and still came out drinking more than 97% of women my age. Now an icon opens up on my phone every day to that says ‘DRINK LESS’. I stopped leaving my phone on meetings tables.

Drink Less. by Robert West

https://apps.apple.com/gb/app/drink-less/id1020579244

If you are thinking about getting help for problematic drinking or any other addictions including workaholism or have any burnout symptoms for more than 3 weeks, you can of course get staff support and occupational health. But/And there is the amazing NHS Practitioner Health Programme where doctors with any addictions are supported https://php.nhs.uk/ DocHealth is another equally good programme https://www.dochealth.org.uk/. I used the latter when it was MedNet.

So, do I feel amazing? Had I got amazing skin, lost weight, feel energised and hopeful. Urg, not really. I feel a bit scared actually. I’ve lost my social crutch and I’ve stopped going out. I’m worried I’m boring and people will think I’m weird. But....I can get up earlier to walk the dog, I’m moderately less tired and although I’m not skipping down the road happy, the depressive moment I had in spring could have been a lot worse. I think that’s actually amazing. And that’s why I’m doing this. I want to face the world honestly and openly. I want to enjoy my kids before they leave home which is frighteningly soon and weirdly, I want to know my liver replaced itself in a year so I’m literally a new person (don’t google Theseus’ Boat Paradox, life is complicated enough). Oddly compelling, that. So where did I stop? I stopped here. In a weird waiting room in my head. But with the promise of a new adventure through the next door.

But don’t stop doing you, babes. Keep telling me your booze bantz. They are hilarious. Any story that starts or ends with Baileys is only going one way. This clearly isn’t a lecture. Most people can do moderation. And do could I, mostly. And it’s the mostly that’s not good enough. Not for me. Not any more.

Online support - https://www.facebook.com/groups/joinclubsoda/?ref=share

Samaritans- https://www.samaritans.org/

BMA wellbeing including 24 hour support - https://www.bma.org.uk/advice/work-life-support/your-wellbeing

Tea and Empathy for doctors’ online support - https://www.facebook.com/groups/1215686978446877/?ref=share

Al Anon for children of alcoholics https://adultchildren.org/

https://www.alcoholics-anonymous.org.uk/

Dedicated to my husband who gave up the wine w*nker 6 years ago without any of this mid life crisis fuss. But I gave up meat and caffeine first so I still win.

[quinsheart]

Dear you,

Can't image that I found your personal email and deliver this shit right into your inbox right? Maybe you don’t know me but I know you. Maybe there are lot and lot of girls around you so obviously, it's hard to remember the girl you pushed down the bed. 

So many but let me remind you of it a little bit. I texted you that I needed a bathroom because I needed for some medical help so I ended up at your place when obviously, it wasn't my plan as many people think. It was a nice day but somehow I got into some kind of accident which made me pretty vulnerable to think of any options instead of knocking your door and asked for help. It was kind of you to let me use your bathroom and it was a story of 5 minutes. I don't know how many times I have been telling story in details, but don't worry, not to the police or anyone who can do the justice, just to myself. Then you made me a cup of tea, my favorite mint tea. I wanted to leave as soon as possible but you were blocking your door. I did make sure that you didn't put anything on my tea so in my head, I thought: “Just take a sip and get out asap" and it didn't go as the way I planned it. As long as I sat down, you started kissing me. I tried to push you away, I said “no" and “please stop"; but it seemed like “it was a signal for you to go further". Why? What was going on in your head that day? And how could a “no" has other different meaning? The moment you pushed me down your bed was the exact moment I knew I couldn't be alright again. I wanted to scream but then it scared me. I don't know for sure what was “it" in this case but my natural instinct told me not to do anything stupid because you were like an animal and my life could be in danger if I went against your will. I laid down, counting times and made a wish. I have never ever describe the whole details to everyone because I could not face it. I wasn't drunk at all and I remember every details as much I appear I didn't. It didn't take me so long to realize that I was raped. I was there myself and I witnessed every moment. I still remember the way you breathe onto my face and how you went inside me. The best is yet to come, or in this case is the worst of it. When you were about to finish, you slapped me and held my nose so I had to open my mouth. Too bad, way too bad when this wasn't a scene in porn at all.  

It didn't stop there did it? Because the story went on and on. This wasn't a Tinder date where you hooked up and said goodbye. To you, this was like a trophy. You took out the best of me without caring and I guess I don't have any right to ask for your care at all. You pushed me down on your bed isn’t enough, lately I became a target so you could drag around. We had a connection and somehow it was so convenient. “She has smaller boobs than you, dw, you're still the best" or “she was so bad at it". Who gave you a right to do that? The story kept going on and on by those texts you typed on your screen. I wished I hadn't know this back then but the other girl was my friend and it was my fault for letting myself ruin it. Not so many, but some people knew the truth stood behind the story but too bad, it wasn't enough to speak out because you turned it into some sort of your game after all. 

What could have stopped what happened that day? Was it “the look of vulnerable on my face when I knocked your door��? Was it “those texts I had sent you before"? Was it “I should have done something else"? No, it was you. You could have stopped all this thing but somehow you decided to go on. 

Every girl needs to be pushed a bit. Girls are all hoe, they all want it but they always say no. If you made clear about your no, I wouldn't do it. 

No means no and it will always mean “NO". I showed up at your door didn't mean I wanted to have sex with you. How sad when no one actually believes it because “I knocked your door myself" or “you should have known better". Everything was a hint “have sex with me" in my world, the world I am living in. It brings you so much benefit and excuses to destroy someone. 

She was right there using my bathroom. She wanted me to and I did what she wanted. 

Again, no means no and nothing can be an excuse for you to do what you want toward me or anyone else. 

I wish everything would have stopped at some point. I wish it was a scene of a movie so I could forget it. You can wake up every morning, having a life you want but not me anymore. I acted like I was ok with it but the truth is, I wasn't and I am not until now. I couldn't sleep at night without dreaming about being raped by you again. I have a big history of “sleep paralysis" and guess what, in dreams where I can't move myself, you were there. I had a hard time going back to my life without the feeling “I am gonna mess up again". I am mentally fucked up like they said. I cried so much that there was no days I woke up with healthy eyes. I am an artist and a creative person, I need myself to be inspired but the joy I want to feel is now feel with my memory of you. Move on, they would say, report him, they would say but the damage is done and no one can redo it. What's the point in reporting you and spend countless amount of time testify for my words. I want to forget everything but I am sorry to myself when it's not a movie. 

I can't focus on anything. I thought I could block memory as I said but no, I was lying about it. I remember every details, however, I am a coward. I am living in the world where a girl drinking will be describe as “spoiled" and girl with guys could be described as “slut". I didn't tell the truth or how I felt to everyone, including my boyfriend. You didn't only destroy a person, you almost destroyed her precious person in her life. He is so pure and literally anything a girl could ask for but I had to keep this things away from him. I was terrible enough and sorry but I couldn't drag another person into this mess. And I have made another mistakes of picking information to tell him, which clearly put him in furious and he made me tell this story over and over and over again. Thus, I never blame you for this because it was my choice. I could be truthful, I could be opened, I could ask for help and move on. You don't know how hard is it to face something which is so horrible. I chose to become someone I am not anymore. I become isolated to everyone. I cut off all the connection to my friends and my family. I feel scared when I have to go outside. I am dark and livid, I start reading things like “suicidal" on the Internet and think it is a part of my depression. Actually it is not. I chose to do more stupid things and destroy people around my life, he once cared but not anymore. I made mistakes, mistakes come with mistakes and they create a big chains for me to hold on. Being raped is not an excuse for me to destroy everything because no one actually look at the fact I got raped. They only look what thing I have done to them and make them feel bad and leave me because “I can't be with you anymore". 

I am so weak to confront to anyone, including myself. I have been lying to myself and made this disappear. You know why? It is much easier to take the blame, accept it and move on but no. I am wrong and I have always been. This is our fault, you shouldn't have done this to me. You completely destroyed my life, however, choosing how to react to it is my choice. I could have lived a new life, started all over and I am so sorry, this is not some kind of Hollywood movie. You have been convicted of violating me, intentionally, forcibly, sexually, with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is telling people I gave a hint. You made myself an uncomfortable place to be as much as I make effort to accept the truth. 

Someone told me I was a lying slut on the day which was supposed to be my happy day. Partly because of things I have done personally to him but I feel like he was right. You called me a lying slut. You called me an addicted slut who was seeking for an attention. The truth is, both of you were right about me. I have been seeking for attention and I am a slut. He also said I could live up to my reputation now and I guess I could. From the person who my boss said “she was full of sunlight” to a person who is ready to give up on herself any minute, I feel angry, I feel breathless every time my boyfriend talked about another incident which happened on the same week. I can never forgive myself from making the worse decision ever. You broke me and I broke another person. I am addressing my problems to let you know that what you have done doesn't stay between us, it affects on other person also and please don't blame me for being unable to control everything. My mind is fucked up and other people is normal, that's why I am ready to let people have big problems to leave me and it's feel much better that way. If you hope you were right about me, then congratulations, you were. I cheated on my boyfriend that same week and now he called me a lying slut. I was alone, stuck between you, your action and your list of words “who is better on bed with you" and I needed help. I made my boyfriend thought that he was so useless and he couldn't do anything to help, I made him think that he was never good enough and he never see past that point. Everything was supposed to be “helping me overcome this" but it was all about “how me slept with another guy" and I also made another mistake with another scumbag and now I am being torn apart by the truth and lie behind it. No one would believe me. You destroy me, I destroy other people in my life, finally live up to my reputation, “a pretty little lying slut". Should I say thank you? 

I don't enjoy, I don't like it at all. Everything is so terrible that I start enjoying my boyfriend's big rant about “how did I destroy him?” rather than facing the truth that I was raped. I am mentally crazy, as much as my medical report says. No one believes I am spending most of my times in and out of the hospital, meeting up with therapist. Daniel said he couldn't separate truth and lie from me anymore and that I would do a blessing job to leave him alone. I lost my precious person in my life. I couldn't ask for any kind of help because my parents are abusive also. I tell myself “Ashley is going crazy because he left" just to cover the fact that “Ashley can't face the truth she was raped". I have done so many many things for him because I cherish him so much and at least it makes me forget the little fact for a while. I don't forget it, I remember details and I let them destroy me despite “Ashley, you have options to move on or drown yourself with it". Life, please give me an instruction. God, please take me away. God doesn't hear it so I am ready to take myself away from this pain. Everything comes all in once and it is beating me daily. This is my last straw to you or anyone. You are a big asshole yourself but I don't hate you for it. You make me sick, just like what you said to me after you finished “your job". 

Much of finishing your job. Turning someone into your little games is also one of your best things to do. You didn't give up on me after finding out I was in the same city as you. What would happened if my coworker, aka Ross buddy, hadn't seen my face of terror and how tight I held his hand at Piu Piu that day? I was there to pick up Ross because he was stressed out by our client and I had to pull him out of there cause we needed to finish our work. Yep, I dressed a bit inappropriate: my off the shoulder shirt and short skirt cause we planned to work outside at Starbucks. I caught your eyes once again and it looked so “magical" to you like how you described it when you talked to me. How dared you? Which cell in your brain made you think you could talk to me? It happened so quick that I only answered “like a common convos" and I pretended to be in hurry. Luckily, Ross knew sth wasn’t wrong and we left as soon as possible. Lately, he made a call, telling my manager that he didn't care how much work we had to do that night, he wouldn't do it and made me speak out what was going on. I was scared like a little puppy lost his mom. I said “he raped me" and Ross spent all night keeping his eyes on me, no words. Your text came to my phone and you used your country number - which I didn't know before to block. You said I looked so good tonight and now you had a new apartment, invited me to stay there again. Wow, how gentle you were and how sweet it was. I was living a dream for a moment and I let you destroyed it again. I showed up late to work, I screamed at my boyfriend and I did stupid things so he could rant at me for cheating (how much his friends were right about me when they don't even know me yet). It has been a hard week and everything got worse in my brain again and again. Who I am? I wish I knew the answer. 

You don't know that I got so scared that everything I am doing can be a reason for something bad happens. If I dress a bit sexy, it would be a sign to my own mind that I am asking for sex. Another question would be asked if I tell someone I saw you again at the bar: “Why didn't you run away?” I can't bear thinking how I don't feel disgusted and turn away whenever I see you. That how my life is like right now, everything small thing can easily kill me inside. I am torn apart, hearing “you have choices, don't act like you don’t". Go to see a therapist, you have sex with other people easily, don't act like it affects you. It doesn't affect me, does it? I should be someone who locks herself up from people because “she talked about it, she cries over it". I want to get on with my life, I try not to be destructive, I try not to be a wrecking ball. The more I try, the more I go deep down into a big mess. 

If it's against your will, it's rape. 

I do not want you to be behind bars, I do not want you to be rotten in hell. I want you to think how did you destroy me inside out. You can't give me the life I had before. Nothing will change your mind about me also because I am one of those girls you put on your schedule. You are happy to be a lady killer, you are everyone's want but not me, I am not one of your little toys also. I have talked to them, those girls you used to sleep with and surprisingly, I am not the only one. She moved on but I don't. I haven't faced it the way I should yet. I wish I could be desperate forever, or maybe be like in the movie where a girl slowly takes step by step but not me. I am sorry and if you think I am angry, my organ will explode and die, you're right. Congratulation. 

This is step by step: 

1. You invited me a cup of tea, my favorite mint tea which I could never take it again. 

2. You started kissing me despite how much I said “no" and “I have a boyfriend" 

3. You locked my hands down, took of my shirt and my pants. I said no and you locked my mouth with your mouth. 

4. You tore the condom with you mouth, you used your legs to lock my legs when you put the condom on. I was too tired to get up and I knew that going against your will could lead to violent action. 

5. You went inside me like an animal. You pushed my shoulder down and I started counting times. 

6. When you were about to finish was when I couldn't move my body or think anymore. You held my nose and you slapped me to make me open my mouth. You put your ball into my mouth as you started jerking off. How much I disgust you? No one can tell. 

7. You made me drink it and I threw up in 1/1000000 second. I had the urge to get up and lock myself in your bathroom again. 

8. I heard clearly what you said afterwards. Those disgust words are still stuck inside my head. How did I end up being your game for days after that? Manipulation and I was so afraid that I would destroy everything I had in my life. 

9. You left your apartment and left me the key. Lucky huh? 

The story didn't stop right there....but it stops for now. I am too nice with everyone, I have been satisfying everyone's mind and turn out, I am not ok at all. 

This is me speaking on behalf of my dead self. Because when you see this email, I am already dead.