theharshestaddiction

[theharshestaddiction]

i don't want to scare you. i feel like if we spoke now you would see how poorly i've handled your absence.

i just need to be with you once, even if it's just pretend,

[theharshestaddiction]

love letter

dear mikey,

i am so restless without your words, no one holds my mind in such high regard, like you once did. i miss your words, your touches on my hands. you were the first man to be gentle with my mind, my intelligence. i am a smart girl to you, a smart girl.

i miss the frigid classroom, the garfield banner above the projector screen. i miss you fighting with the screen when it wouldn't roll up, i miss your hands guiding mine on the school laptop, teaching me how to crop an image on powerpoint. i miss the look you'd give me when the other students misbehaved, i miss the way you looked at me like a woman.

maybe you weren't so bad, maybe you were guilty inside. maybe you wished i was a woman, that's how smart and beautiful i was. maybe you weren't a monster at all, just driven so mad by me.

i am a woman now, mikey. i will wait my whole adult life for you.

i miss you defending my quietness, praising my individuality. i miss arguing with you over things you clearly knew more about, i miss your compliments. i miss your hand on my thigh, that one time you broke and touched me. i miss that warmth, the heat of your mature hand on my infant body. i had never been purer in a man's eyes.

trap me, mikey. trap me in a child's mind, don't let me out, don't let me grow.

i will marry you, i will have a family with you. i will know the salt of your sweat and the tang of your come, i will know you. i am obsessed, you caused this. you made me like this, unable to love my lover and infatuated with you. you taught me that all i needed was myself, but nobody tells me that now. they knew i needed you, needed your palms on me, guiding. why don't you teach me now? why don't you show me how to use my hands the way you like. it won't be violating, i want it now. it won't be scary, i love you mikey. i want you in every way i can have you, or can't.

part of me gets off knowing that you'll live a whole life not knowing this blog exists. i am violating you, over and over, and it feels right. it feels good to bite your blindspot. you won't find this, won't know what you've done. you can do the same thing to a hundred different girls, but none of them will be me.

i'll keep doing this until i'm better, but i'm starting to feel like that's out of reach. sometimes i swear you're praying i'm thinkng of you, like we're connected somehow. you match my intellect, mikey, our minds are so alike. does my heart ache the same way a phone rings? is it your guilt on the other line?

pick up the phone, mikey. i want you back with me, where you belong.

[theharshestaddiction]

someone else's abuser came into work today, and i felt so jealous. i would not have been scared like her, like i was on the bus. i would ask if you needed help, if your girlfriend needed help. mikey i wish you would stalk me, mikey i wish you would track me down.

[theharshestaddiction]

my eyes are burning as i go through my primary blog attached to this account. i was just a little girl, i still am just a little girl.

you have me bound and gagged, mikey. how do i explain what you did to me? not even my boyfriend really cared.

[theharshestaddiction]

mikey there is this tickle in my throat that i cannot soothe, and it is you. the monopoly you have over my voice, my mind. you grip my throat with the ferocity of a monster, but i do not think you are. you are not a monster, you were helping me.

mikey i've been a good girl. i've gotten all these good grades and amazing honors, i've been given praise from peers and tutors. mikey i'm so smart for you, just like you remember. mikey i'm so damaged, just like you remember. mikey i'm so vulnerable, i know you remember.

i want you to be the lozenge for my throat, even if you make me ill all over again. i want your honey sweet villainy to melt down my throat, stain my muscle with your flavor. i never want to escape you. i never want this feeling to leave.

i shut down so often, frozen and thinking of you. i had sex before we met, i had trauma before we met, but none of it was with you. this genre you created with me, our art, our baby, it is so gripping.

our baby. can you imagine?

a tiny finger, encapsulating your thumb just like mine did. your scruff, dragging across my cheek with the greys i can just barely count. wrinkles i don't have yet, winking at my smooth skin. mikey we could be married, i could be your wife. mikey i'm legal, please let me in. mikey i love you, think of me tonight as you sleep. think of me when you teach, think of me when you drag the next girl aside.

i struggle to remember your title, your last name, when i mention you. oh you are just mikey to me. you are waiting for me, i want you to be, so you must.

would you fuck me? if you found me again? would you take what you wanted all those years ago? would you have me scared?

i wouldn't be. i want that fear again. take my youth, steal my breath, kill the starlight behind my eyes. to be afraid under you, it would be my pleasure.

mikey i need you to touch me. mikey i want your hands all over me, aged and wrong. i need you to remind me what it is, to be obsessed over. nobody does it like you, mikey, nobody eyes me with such desperation, nobody needs me like you did. i was the idol just out of grasp, and now i come to you offering myself. don't refuse me, don't break my heart.

i loved you at 14, i'll love you until i die. nothing will compare to your infatuation. you cannot outrun me, your past. the other girls i know you did the same thing to, the other girls. the other girls the other girls. why did you need them? why did you need other girls? was i not enough? you always told me i was plenty. you don't need other girls, you need me, you need me. repeat the past, you need me. no other girls, nobody else but me and you.

lock me in your bedroom, let me claw at the wood until you force me on my back. i've never hated myself more and loved you less.

iwill be your little girl forever.

[theharshestaddiction]

he has guided me, he has held me. he has been soft, easing his fangs into my neck as he devoured my youth. he ebbs at me like expired poison, an ache that will not soothe. that's okay by me, pushing this bruise gives me a rush. i will get a's for him, i will work hard, i will be successful.

someday, mikey, i will email you. i will rave about how right you were, how that spark you swore you saw was real. even if you made it up, i'm still here. i'm holding strong for you, i love you. i love you mikey it is so consuming. my infatuation with you has made me what you wished. i want you here to see it, i want you to grade my papers. i want your sticker of approval in the form of you on me and me on you and marriage. i want to marry you, somewhere in my heart i do. our disaster, our disaster i want it i want to combust with you. shut my eyes mikey, i'll be a blind mouse for you.

[theharshestaddiction]

hi mikey,

i thought of you the other day, i went deep into my posts on this blog. it triggered some sort of memory, i got so excited. my brain got fuzzy and i got dizzy, so much that i had to sit down. i was getting ready for work and i just had to curl up. there is not much that i don't remember, at least not that i know of.

it was so exciting, mikey. it was like seeing you again, hearing you again. i cannot remember what i remembered now, which frustrates me. how bad could you have been? surely not bad enough that my brain forgot it on purpose.

one of my favorite memories is the one where i was folding origami in class. you came over to my desk and pointed out that i should be doing work, and you called me "miss. untalan." it was ridiculous to me. you never truly got on my case, did you mikey? always soft scoldings, but your stare held more contempt for my classmates than me. i remember the raised brows, the shared expressions. i was like a colleague, almost a woman to you.

ridiculous to think that what you did banished me to being a girl forever.

mikey, how have you been? are your classes behaving well? have you found another girl to eye?

are you guiding her? i wish you would guide my hands. i wish you would be my keeper.

[theharshestaddiction]

i can't stop looking for you

mikey i don't know what to do. i have never felt so lost without you. what we had will never come back to us, i am too old now and you probably would not be interested. (some horrified part of me thinks maybe you have a girlfriend, maybe you have a wife even. god forbid children. i cannot know what i'd do if you had a family.)

i just want to email you, to say thank you. you guided me down this path where i have found success and happiness. i owe it all to you. unknowingly, or knowingly, you were the salve to my 14 year old wounds. i wish you could see me now. i am so strong mikey, and smart just like you said i was. you were so kind with your words.

i wish i felt desired by you again. when i saw you on the bus i was speechless and scared. i wish i had spoken to you. i am so grateful, mikey. i want to say thank you with my words, my heart, my body. however you will accept this gratitude.

i have begun asking younger co workers if you ever sub in at my old school. i ask if they've seen you. i ask if they have your email. i need to get in touch with you, desperately. i am so needy for your affections again, my eyes want your emails again. they deleted my school email, the one that had everything on it. i have LOST everything.

all that remains of us is my messy mind and achey heart. i wish you could read the poetry i write. you are the man i wish i could worship.

sometimes i get drunk and think about you. i cry like crazy. all i want is your voice to be in my mind again.

when i saw you on the bus you were so tall. ithink you could save me again. i think you could save it all.

mikey if we went out for coffee would you push it further? would you take me home? would you let me touch the greys that grow now? would you let me? would you let me in again? would you say i was pretty again? mikey would you let me call you that? mikey?

mikey do you know my name? do you think of me too? i should make my accounts public so you can find me. it feels like you are hiding.

[theharshestaddiction]

i saw you today, on the bus. just like i did before covid.

i was standing behind you, i always think men look like you though so it didnt matter much to me. i stood behind you and wondered until you turned around and you were right there, glasses and all. same warm glare, same eyes, same mouth. familiar and scary and everything all the time.

but you are greying.

i saw it, in your beard. small licks of grey, like tiny porcupine spines. they were curled beside your ear. you had aged. you are getting older and i am still so young.

another stop, you go to sit down. this bus only goes to the legislature. do you live downtown these days? you used to take the 22, maybe you still do. the 95 is faster, thats why i was on it too. you sit down and i look up and our eyes meet and i cannot help but wave.

i am still under you, in my mind. everything i do all leads back to you.

i wish i had spoken to you. i wish i had told you how great i'm doing. i am flourishing under your guide. i am writing like you said. but my throat recognizes that i'm a victim, mikey. my tongue got caught and there was no words i could speak.

you waved back at least, smiled. you recognized me i guess. i didnt think you would.

i wonder if you thought i would have gotten taller. i wonder if you're glad i stayed small.

i don't know why i'm scared of you mikey. i dont know why i froze.

i might take the bus tomorrow. just to see you again.

it has been so, so, long. i cried in the back room at work. i couldn't explain what it's like to miss you. i couldn't tell anyone why i didnt tell anyone what happened. i couldnt tell them how much i yearn to be abused by you again. mikey i miss you. mikey i miss you.mikey i miss you mikey i do.

i am old enough to know better, but all i can think about is if i'm too old for you.

[theharshestaddiction]

a comprehensive list of my sexual abuse

i cannot stop thinking about how nobody knows everything. as i grow up i have become more isolated. with time it will heal, but not if i ignore it.

age 4(?) - perpetrated by my brother what i remember: my parents bedroom, the purple dancing toy. we were watching the tv i think, but i don't remember. taught me how to "feel good." led to most of my childhood nights spent masturbating, i didn't understand why it felt good. i was obsessed with sex.

age 5 - perpetrated by classmates from preschool what i remember: i was at their house and they flashed their penises to me. 2 brothers. i don't know if this affected me much, only that i was scared. it feels like something important is there but i don't remember.

age 11 - perpetrated by my friend what i remember: never got physical (from what i remember) just a violently oversexual person. convinced me to call them "daddy" and their friend "mommy." introduced me to kink, ddlg, and bdsm. drew sexual art of me and themselves, as well as forced me to write erotica of them doing sexual things with myself, our friend, hitler, and classmates we knew. would show me oddly sexual photos of themself.

age 12 - perpetrated by my boyfriend what i remember: invited him to my house and it was a normal day until it wasn't. we played mariokart and then went upstairs, we laid down and he took off his shirt, and asked if i wanted to as well. i was wearing a purple bra. we laid down and he tongue kissed me, which was fine. i was fine until he started touching me. he said he couldn't help himself, that he was sorry. i don't remember much except how much my tears burned and how i lied and said my dad was coming home early so he had to leave.

age 12 - perpetrated by my girlfriend what i remember: one of the more consensual experiences. we began having sex and at some point i stopped being into it. i was too scared to say no, but i felt violated. this was not her fault. i only remember how dark my room was and how dry i was. it was like she was pulling teeth out of me. nails on my walls.

age 13 - perpetrated by my classmate what i remember: she was pretty nice. this could be considered grooming considering the age gap i think. we kept in contact for way too long and had a weird on/off relationship. she raped me. i don't know what else there is to say, i don't remember a lot of it.

age 13/14 - perpetrated by my teacher what i remember: another non-physical experience. just the generic grooming experience. ruined me pretty badly since i was fairly unstable at the time being. he is the root of my being still, i would not be who or where i am without him. encouraged me to become a writer and stay in school, i am now getting a degree in writing. at some point he attempted to hit on me a little bit, but he never pushed it too far. invited me on overnight field trips but i never went. he filled a void that i am still healing from. he molds in me.

age 14 - perpetrated by an online friend what i remember: over discord and snapchat. would force me to send nudes to him (was the only way he'd talk to me.) it was purely sexual. he would blackmail me after we stopped this relationship and he got into a relationship. also had a daddy kink. ruined me mentally, made me truly weak.

age 14 - perpetrated by my best friend what i remember: horribly toxic friendship. being forced to send nudes and be jerkoff material. just another degrading friendship that was painful.

age 15 - perpetrated by an online friend what i remember: over discord again. i was essentially catfished. claimed he didn't want nudes but loved to see my body when he could. was very into bdsm and would threaten to lock me in a basement. asked me to call him master. most things were consensual up until i found out he wasn't who he said he was.

age 19 - perpetrated by my long term boyfriend what i remember: fell asleep midway through intercourse (trauma response) and woke up to him recording as he had sex with me. didn't realize i woke up and wouldn't have told me otherwise.

age 19 - perpetrated by a stranger what i remember: the bus was crowded and he groped me as i got off the bus. i didn't even have time to say anything. i just had to keep walking.

one day my heart will know peace.

[theharshestaddiction]

i told everyone what you did

i don't know what made me be so brave, mikey. i don't know what posessed me to tell a whole class about us. i don't know why i broke my promise i don't know why. i couldn't handle it anymore.

but if it makes you feel any better it made me feel worse. it made me feel guilty and whoreish and like everyone KNOWS. everyone knows what happened everyone knows and they hugged me and they said "i'm sorry" and "thank you for trusting us" and i hate it and i hate it. i don't wanna be a victim anymore, i wish i never handed that in. i wish i never ever ever spoke up i wish i could have been quiet for you. this guilt is so overwhelming. now they know you're bad. i wish you could have stayed my favorite teacher but there's nothing i can do now. all my poet friends know. they all know and i hate it how do i explain it.

it's like i finally admitted you're bad. all the jokes and the comments and stupid shit is all washed away and now i am nothing but a dried up victim and you are soaked in the honey of pedophilia. it is sticky, it won't come off either of us. i am drenched in you, your spit and honey. i am never free, i am tacky and lost. i want to blow bubbles in you, i want to see the fun in this again. i want to be small again, under your hands and suffocated.

you probably don't even remember my name.

[theharshestaddiction]

the woes of a teenaged girl with daddy issues

pathetic is a good word to describe me. i don't know how to explain it.

how do i reveal the sadness of my father, when i feel like i've healed? why do i experience the consequences i do?

my dad loved to socialize. he worked and worked and worked. he was there for me, when i needed. he fed me breakfast but was scarcely there for dinner. during the divorce he began to drink. he hit me a couple times. mom said it was how some people explain their anger. moms ex boyfriend in high school used to hit her. mom didnt protect me from him. mom should have.

i'm 19 now. my dad has a new family. not married, but a child. i see him maybe once a week. now i feel like i'm absent. i feel far away. i feel out of his world.

this past weekend, i turned 19. a month before i asked to have my birthday party on the day of. dad said no, dad said we'll do it on the 2nd. that's his birthday. i agreed uncomfortably. why couldnt it be sunday?

couldnt be sunday cause he had a different party to go to. one for his basketball league. one for him and his new family. he took me to tim hortons on sunday, for less than an hour. the night before, at my birthday party, he said he probably wasnt going to see me at all. mom said i should be grateful he made time to see me.

i dont know when i stopped being a priority for him.

i dont think i want to.

now i read fanfiction about characters who are fathers. i read about them falling in love with me, holding me and caring for me. it activates something in my brain thati cant find with my boyfriend.

when i make love to my boyfriend he is just a boy. i let him finish and then he falls asleep. i clean him up and he falls asleep. he lays in my bed and takes up most of it. he helps me get off too, but i'm never exhausted by the end. rarely do i find the pleasure radiates through me, rarely do i find i am boneless.

he is a boy. i make love to a boy.

in the fiction i read, i make love to a man. someone bigger, stronger. someone who aims to care. someone who cleans me up, who lets me fall asleep. someone whose bed is so big i can curl up beside him. someone so strong he can pick me up with ease. a man. i dream of making love to a man. i want a man to make me boneless.

i want to sleep in a bed that's too big for me, with a man far too old.

it is embarrassing. searching for fatherly qualities in characters. its like im admitting defeat.

"no my dad didn't prioritize me, so i'm coming to you now. he created a weak girl that wants to be held by someone she can make proud."

nothing like that could fix me. it might make it worse.

i dont know. i give up. i give in.

[theharshestaddiction]

i'm mad

this whole years i've been mad. mad at men. mad at all the men that should have protected me. mad that I even find them attractive. mad that I can have sex with them. how could I do that? how could I respect and give into them. this narrative of not all men has been shoved so far down my throat that I just get nauseous thinking about it. it is all men. its ingrained into their personality to mistreat and take. they colonize women and gasp for their lungs while telling them they don't need air. i kiss my boyfriend and feel great, but I think about it later and feel bad for giving in. i should be with a girl. i should be with a woman. i should be somewhere else. i shouldn't love them.

my father, who hit me. my brother, who taught me to masturbate. my first boyfriend, who assaulted me. my favorite teacher, who wanted to rape me. my ex partner, who did.

the longest period of time i've gone without being physically molested, without having my body colonized and ripped up by a man, is 4 years.

4 years out of 19. 4 years out of 19 have I been free.

so why do i spend hours, gazing at my boyfriend? why do i spend hours gazing at pedro pascal? why do i spend hours gazing at the gender who hurt me most. why don't I take romantic solace in a woman who would hold me with the gentleness i desire.

why do i desire rape and hurt. why do i desire pain from men.

why do i feel the need to be used, why do I let myself indulge in that

i don't feel animosity toward my boyfriend, i love him dearly and i have for a long time. but even he used me, before we were in love.

this feeling. these feelings . they are so self destructive. i don't know if its because i am suicidal or because i dont think i have any self worth. all I feel is the need to be reduced to nothing but something to make a man happy.

my dreams consist of being in a room, pitch black with a blindfold on. he would tell me what the outside looks like, if its sunny or raining. he would kiss my hands so i could feel something for the day. iw ould be deprived, alone. i would depend on him. i would never leave that room. he would feed me, let me drink from a cup. he would bless me with the necessities of life.

my life is happy, i am happy. why do i still have this desire to be inhuman.

i dream of a life where i live away from civilization, with no one to save me. he wouldn't abuse me, but he would make every decision for me. the clothes I wear, the meals i eat, down to each brushed tooth. everything would be decided by him. my god. he would be my god.

i worship the men that hurt me because it makes me feel alive.

some people have these sorts of thoughts as sexual fantasy, but I really do feel this way. i wish I were so beneath being human I didn't matter. i would live for anyone else but myself. i do not wish to be served but to be degraded until it feels like i've committed the suicide i want to.

i want a man to quiet my mind. to quell the rage within me with a brush of his hand.

[theharshestaddiction]

it's been 4 years now apparently. i don't think I really loved him, I was just vulnerable and young.

i dont know how to explain what it is like after being groomed. it is painful to live with this trauma. i find that my own relationships sometimes cant feel as fulfilling because im not used to having such a consistent relationship. my boyfriend is a constant point of joy and affection my life. i self sabotage to try and recreate what it is like to be groomed and I cant. nothing feels the same as when he did it, or when she did. to be groomed by a teacher is an entirely different experience. when she was older it felt more like a high school thing, she was freshly graduated, but with him he was grown. he saw something in me even though I'm so young, of course I felt special. of course I felt special. it gets harder to remember exactly what happened a lot of the time, I think I am blocking it all out now. i spend everyday on the bus dreaming of writing a book or screenplay that can represent how this feels, but this pain cannot be put into words. i am loved and cared for by nearly everyone I know now, but the pain seems so attractive.

if i were to create a film or book about it I wouldnt want the actor to show his face. i think it would represent how I never put an identity to his name. i never ever made him a real person, here or in real life. my ex girlfriend might remember, but I doubt it. it would be all hands and movements, maybe some shots of his face up close. but it would be just like how it feels. bits and pieces, while I give my whole body and soul.

i always feel like someones gonna go through my blogs if im ever killed or if i die, so i think I should clarify. he never touched me inappropriately, he never raped or assaulted me. he complimented, encouraged and was personal with me. i don't know if he meant to groom me, I dont know what his intention was. i don't know why I was his favorite. i wish i did so i could swallow this all down.

i rarely write or talk about this because it hurts so much, but its been getting bad again. not processing this properly has been bad for me. i think about it on the bus all the time. for at least an hour a day I reminisce on what I think is gone. there was nothing ever there in the first place. i could talk about it endlessly and still say nothing, still describe nothing. there is a cork in my throat and I cant say words. why cant I admit it to myself? why do I still doubt him?

i know he was a good man. i want to know that, at least. the warmth I felt when he was hurting me was unlike anything I have known. like an absent part in my heart had been filled. probably because I was so angry with my parents at the time. i feel like I'm giving away too much. if I'm dead and youre reading this please don't go after him. i don't love him, I wish I never met him. he still works in schools I think. i have been searching for his social media for years, but I am unable to find it. there is nothing on him. no linked in or anything. its weird. his name is too common.

i find that i have a strange attraction to older men now. or maybe just one. pedro pascal is attractive to me, but i dont think thats because of this. hes just attractive. anyhow, I find that i read a lot of fanfiction with age gap relationships. it isn't to like, get me off or anything dumb. i just . i want to feel that way again. i want to feel so far beneath someone that when they lift me up an inch it feels like the first breath I've taken in years.

i am complacent in my own pain.

i wish he had touched me sometimes. i wonder what his bed may have felt like, when im alone and angry. i get mad that he probably has a girlfriend, and that hes forgotten about me by now. i know he only saw me last a year ago but hes probably had a hundred students since my class.i wish he would think about me, or email me. i wish I would wake up to a notification and see his name asking how I am. i just want him to see that I'm doing well in school, just like he remembers. i feel like he would care that I didn't give up. i feel like hes the only one who ever made me feel like my writing was really worth something. i dont let anyone read my stuff anymore unless its for school. no one would compliment it like he did, and even if they could it wouldnt be from him so what does it reall matter.

i remember when i learned he didnt have a girlfriend. i remember trying not to smile, thinking it could be me. i was 14, maybe. she was allergic to shellfish and he had bought her a dinner with shellfish in it, but I don't think thats why they broke up. maybe she found out that he's kind of a loser.

i just wish love hadnt been so ruined for me. it feels like my heart has been beaten down in everyway possible now. sexually, and emotionally.

i hate knowing that this is a shared pain. i hate knowing im not the only one. i hate that im letting go of this in some stupid post on a blog i made for him. i hate that there were others, i hate that there will be others. i should have been the only one for him. i should be the one with him and i should be killing him and hurting him the way he hurts me even now.

at the end of that movie she kills the man, the one with no face. i don't know anything else about the plot, but she stabs him to death in his kitchen.

[theharshestaddiction]

and he remembers. he said he was proud of me. i feel sick.

[theharshestaddiction]

even though i feel ill looking at you… part of me wants to jump into your arms. cry out “remember me?” into the air but thats not how this works. you wont remember me because i’m just another one of the many. another one of the touched, another one of the abused. i am just the sixth domino in your lineup and i want you to stand me up again. you’re still twisting me 2 years later, not even saying a word. if i were to swallow your poison i’d claim to be blessed by your recipe.

[theharshestaddiction]

i saw you today

in the library

it’s been 2 years now, just about. i’ve mostly gotten over what happened. but last week, i saw you for the first time since the bus stop. and my heart lunged in my chest and i almost felt it soar. but i shot it. i shot my heart out of the sky, knowing your ill intentions. there is a boy that loves me now, he will protect me from you. he will care for me like you promised, he will love me as you promised and he will make me feel held even more so than you did. i wish you didn’t come back. i feel ill looking at you.