The thing I hate the most about all of this, is that I have not found it in me to hate him. I worry about him, knowing his parents aren't too supportive, having to face all of this alone. I feel terrible for putting him through all this, as if it is somehow all my fault. I have nightmares about being raped, but it is never by him. It is a literal mental block. In that aspect, I wish that it had all happened the way it is "supposed to happen"- violently, by someone unknown to me. He was my friend, I trusted him implicitly.
After this past year, my trust in my own judgment of people has changed unalterably. I'm too nice, too forgiving, too trusting. I like to pretend that I'm super jaded and mean and pessimistic. But honestly, I'm not. As long as someone hangs around just long enough to get past that thin veneer then I'm loyal as a puppy dog; its frustrating.
I don't know where to put all my stuff. There just isn't room in my room!
Alright, thats the update for today.
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