Even if I have to greet you, I avoid looking into your eyes. I’m sure you must have noticed this too.
I have memories of my childhood with you of the days we would play together. You were my cousin but I also considered you a friend.
But one day, it all evaporated.
I remember how aggressive you were when you asked me to look into your eyes while your hand was inside my shirt. My legs were shaking in fear and I couldn’t move. You held my arm so tightly that I almost started crying.
Do you remember how I ran back to my room immediately? From that day onward, I thought that I was to blame for what you did to me.
I was scared and didn’t know who to talk to. That night I cried until I fell asleep.
That was the last time I ever looked into someone’s eyes. It’s been almost 11 years and I still feel embarrassed to make eye contact with anyone.
I feel as if people can read my eyes and know what happened to me. And I don’t want to be reminded of what you did to me.
Did you ever think of what happened to me after what you did? I couldn’t swallow my food during lunch that day. My heart was beating so fast that I could hear it in my ears.
It has been almost four years since I accepted that what happened to me was abuse. My teachers at university helped me understand what abuse is by talking about it in class.
But it’s still too difficult for me to talk about what happened to me with anyone. I tried though, and all I could do was hate myself even more.
The guilt and embarrassment is slowly killing me from inside.
I know blaming myself isn’t going to help me escape my demons but it has become an addiction as it helps me function for a while.
I don’t know why I’m writing this but my therapist told me I should start writing how I feel.
It’s been three months since I’ve been writing but I still don’t have the right words to express my ordeals. A part of me accepts that it was abuse, but another part of me still thinks that it’s all my fault.
I wish I had the courage to ask you why you do this to me. Was it how I dressed that provoked you? Or the way I use to sit or walk? Or talk? I really want to know.
I am afraid that I will be abused again. I have panic attacks because of my fear of rape.
You changed me, and I swear I miss the way I was. Before the assault, I was a confident and an energetic person.
I thought you wouldn’t do it again. But when you were dropping me to my friend’s house a few days later, you suddenly stopped the car and shoved your hand between my thighs. I tried to stop you without looking at you, but you just laughed.
I still remember your squeaky voice when you said, “I love to see you scared”. After molesting me, you told me, “don’t make me do this again.”
It was my fear that turned you on, right? But you blamed me for it, and for a long time I thought it was my fault. A part of me still does.
I have been reading about abuse and I know now that abusers put the blame on their victims. That’s exactly what you did as well.
I still feel scared even when I know I’m safe. I’m afraid to talk to my male friends even though I know they are trustworthy. My heart starts pounding while asking my male teacher a question.
I feel that the way I talk or even move my hands may seduce sick minded people like you. That’s why I try to stay invisible. I am scared of my own existence. -DN
THE PASHTUN TIMES