Bugs

Too many thoughts in my head again.
I can't see straight.

My therapist and I have dissected my newfound understanding of the boy's ways of sexual abuse for the past week or so. Everyday I find something new, some other way in which that abuse has changed who I am.

As soon as I sense any sort of sexual atmosphere, my mind stops seeing straight as my survival instincts cloud my vision. I call it a "survival instinct" because, at the time when this instinct surfaced, it was for survival. This instinct is what convinces my mind that I want it--I want to have sex or take my clothes off or whatever the situation might be at the moment. This way, the pain of knowing that these acts were done while I did not want them was avoided.

That pain is too much.

So I convince myself it's what I want. It's what I need. That I am in complete control. That I am deciding to do this. That I always have the option of stopping but I don't because I don't want to stop.

The reality is, as soon as this instinct kicks in, I don't have the option of stopping it. The reality is that I never really want it, or need it. The reality is that I have never been in control, and have never decided to do it. The reality is the boy--though he is long gone--is still controlling that part of me.

This is my reality, and has nothing to do with the person next to me participating in it. I know Flyer will feel as if he is forcing me to do something, or should somehow know what to do.
He can't know what to do. I don't really know what to do.

Actually, I haven't a clue in the world what to do, how to stop this, how to make the boy leave, how to finally have control.

The boy is like a parasite. He himself is the bloodsucker. And soon as he becomes aware of his target, he becomes an infestation. His poison is released into his prey. In this case, his prey noticed the parasitical attachment on her heart, body, soul, spirit, and somehow was able to detach it from her. However, that almost doesn't matter, because the bloodsucker has done his job--sucked out blood, sucked out life, sucked out love and hope and happiness and safety and control and sanity--and left his victim with his own poison slowly dripping into her veins, arteries, and ultimately, her heart.
His poison is suffocating, and rapid. It's deadly. It aims to kill, and never misses. While the parasite might be out of site, his destruction has left an irrevocable path, headed towards inevitable and unavoidable darkness.

I'm waiting for my antibiotics, but I am afraid the cure I am seeking is nonexistent.

-Beaskie