Tag Archives: self harm


When I was 14 I was desperate for friends and lonely and thought that if I had a boyfriend or was pretty then I might have friends but I wasn’t and I didn’t. So I did what every lonely gen z teenager does and tried to find friends online. I found some but I found many many more who just wanted to see my boobs or my ass. I also found a guy that, on a post I made about being depressed and alone, dm’ed me how he would feel me up in my sleep. I also found my self in 2 emotionally abusive relationships. One was with a guy old enough to be my dad who sent me videos of little girls dancing cause he got off to it and he wanted me to as well. He made me feel gross and disgusting and suicidal but I couldn’t leave him because he was the only one who talked to me. The other relationship was with a guy that would pretend to rape me and then cry about he would never do it again and he was so sorry and I didn’t leave because I had been conditioned to go along with what other suggested and never say no. Another guy who was 18 told me he loved me but only texted me when he was horny or occasionally when I injured myself. I still feel sorry for the fact that I might have hurt them when I left and I’m still terrified that I might actually be the type of girl these guys wanted. A desperate slut that does get to say no and ok with being abused so she’s not alone because for a while that’s what I was. I still haven’t found the courage to report the pedophile because I’m afraid my parents will be ashamed and blame me and I feel guilty because by not reporting him I’m enabling his continued abuse.


In college every male friend I made tried to hook up with me or take advantage of me sexually. One night I knew he was gonna try it again (even though I had already turned him down more than once), so I chugged as much wine as I could so that I might black out and escape my body for the night while he did as he pleased. I was just too exhausted at that point to fight it anymore. It comes from all directions all the time. Sure enough, the next morning I woke up naked next to him. I made something up so that he would leave as soon as possible, and I stopped talking to him after that. That instance with that guy in college was not the first time my body had been used without my knowledge, and it wouldn’t be the last. It’s been stripped down, video taped, transported, and made the butt of jokes on a few occasions all without my knowledge. To this day I cut myself from time to time to feel more connected to my body, and because it feels like I have control over what’s happening to it. My psychiatrist told me, “Girls do that. Not so much boys.” Plain and simple. I didn’t ask him why that is; I’m a girl. I know why because I experience it every day.