You don’t get to just go around and pretend like your actions don’t impact other people. You don’t get to pretend like it never happened, because I don’t have that luxury.
I don’t get to pretend like you didn’t sexually assault me as I shoved and shouted for you to stop, because I’m choked by the memory at least once a week.
I don’t get to pretend that in the mornings leading up to it, as I said you hurt me the night before, your response wasn’t to say you had no control over your actions, like I just had to accept it, because I replay over and over in my head why I believed you, why I didn’t find your lack of shock and empathy suspicious, why I didn’t leave.
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