This post contains VERY personal information.

So if you'd rather not know certain things about me, stop reading right now.

....

LAST CHANCE: BAIL NOW, OR FOREVER HOLD YOUR PEACE.

Okay.

Today was a day for bad memories to dig themselves out of the shallow graves they've been hangin' out in for some-odd years to come back and haunt me. No matter what I do, I can never seem to completely chase such traumatic experiences from my mind.

Earlier today, I was talking to someone and the subject of something that happened a few years back was casually mentioned (by me, not him). What exactly happened? I was raped. By someone whom I saw as a friend and thought I could trust. I won't delve into that, though.

Later this evening, I was watching the premier of Cold Case (because it came on right after The Amazing Race) and there was a scene in it where a girl is nearly raped, portrayed in quite a graphic manner. In that instant, I relived everything that happened to me. My pulse started to race, I felt my face flush red, and that certain feeling of panic seized my stomach. Then, my breathing got shallow and fast and I realized I may hyperventilate, so I quickly (but gracefully, so as not to worry my roommate) got up, grabbed a facecloth and made my way to the bathroom, where I soaked the facecloth in cold water and held it against my face and tried to focus on calming myself down (telling myself "It's just a TV show. No one got hurt. That won't ever happen to you again," etc).

After about 60 seconds, I lowered the facecloth and looked up at my reflection in the mirror. There I saw the scar that he left on my right cheek from his stupid pocketknife that he used to intimidate me (but probably had no intention of using, now that I think about it; he cut me when he reached to cover my mouth with the hand he was holding it in). It's almost completely faded, now but it seemed so noticeable to me, like I had been marked for life, for the whole world to see.

Again, a flood of emotion. I blinked back tears and again covered my face with the cool cloth. I decided that the last thing that needed to happen was for me to lose my composure in a place where explanation would be required. Standing there over the sink, I kept seeing the images in my head (of course, the only time I have a photographic memory is with things like this) and hearing his words: "I don't want to hurt you, Rayna. If you'd just shut up, we could both enjoy this."

Haha, the son of a... Enjoy it? Aside from the fact that it did hurt--badly--I'm now left to pick up the pieces he left behind.

I feel like less of a woman. I feel worthless and unmarriageable. I'm ashamed of and hate myself. And even if I manage to find a guy who'll take me as I am when the time comes, I'd feel like I was cheating him out of something that should be rightfully his.

Why is this such a big deal to me? I wish I could explain it fully, but I can't. I think it may go back to the surroundings in which I was brought up.

...

Could someone tell me why I exist? I don't want to handle this right now; I have never felt this low, ever. I'm usually such an optimist, I don't understand why I'm having such issues keeping my emotions under control.

I'm seriously considering leaving everything behind. I want to run as far away as I can get from my past and not look back. I've seriously considered abandoning everything, including my faith, to start anew. I feel like I've just screwed everything up so badly in so many aspects of my life, I don't want any vestige remaining to remind me of who I used to be.

My cousin is in South America right now, living there and teaching english in a gradeschool. I've been talking to her, trying to get all of the details on how I should go about leaving the U.S. I can't stand it here anymore. This is something I've been looking into since my 18th birthday and, now with my 19th fast approaching, I can think of no better time to take initiative.

For those who are curious: this is without parental consent. I plan to fund said venture with money that my grandmother left me when she passed away (I think Grams would understand) and money I had put away from working at the groom shop/coffee shop + extra funds from dress commissions, etc.

But first, I have to do stat homework.