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I process it every single day, without exaggeration.
My conclusions are:
The ignorant ones rely on personal bias to think for them.
True friends would never pick a side if they wanted to help.
He wasn't a decent man, but obviously a typical one, and a decent made would have no reason to rape his friend.
A decent man would never justify rape and would rather apologise.
Many men don't understand the difference between consent and non-consent, or what sexual assault really is to be so baffled about women's outcries.
I've trusted the wrong people.
Many people have a perception of me and see no problem with what happened to me.
When a woman is accused of extorting money from a man, it's because the truth was hidden; The perpetrator wanted the victim to shut up about the incident and the ignorant ones saw the sexist bias whereas the knowledgeable ones knew it was quiet money.
There's not enough money in the world that could make me get over this.
I didn't want it, I didn't like it and I certainly didn't consent to it.
This'll never leave my entire being for as long as I live.
Talking about it has relieved me by 20%.
I see the world through rape-colored glasses.
I'd never burden my family, especially my wonderful beloved mother with the abuse I went through.
Anyone who protected that rapist made it only about themselves and nobody else.
Nobody could get past the accusation to fully understand what the issue was.
I pick the wrong people that end up in my life.
I lived in a bad neighbourhood in a bad building where he'd done it before.
I understand the term "Gaslighting" and that a truely evil person can mind-fuck you.
I wasn't totally hood-winked because I knew the facts, even when I was made to doubt myself.
As much as I did about the whole thing, he got away anyway, thanks to those around me.
I can easily cut people out of my life if I think they've harmed me or will harm me.
If it came down to my family, I could cut them out too.
Sometimes I wish I were lesbian out of spite, but sex with women happens to be spectacular!
Religion hasn't helped me through this and it never can. I'd have to believe it, but I'm glad I don't.
When I have moments of absolute joy, the trauma hits me harder than when I'm obsessed with the thoughts daily.
I do feel broken, tainted, damaged goods, toxic, poisoned, abused, disrespected and degraded.
I do believe it was the most chauvinistic act done to me.
I never should've trusted anyone in that building.
I'm glad I didn't do anything physically violent, but many times I fantasize about a large knife used on him.
My struggle with Iranians isn't an issue, since that's what he was, but I'm disgusted with others who assume out of ignorance that that was the issue.
If anyone I've encountered were knowledgeable and learned, nobody would've been angry at me or blamed me at all.
I know it wasn't my fault, but I wished I'd done more, and that'll always haunt me.
I'm a different person since the incident.
I fear I'm capable of raping a woman just because the incident intrudes me; I would never find any joy in it and I don't see the point in it.
I'm so sexually frustrated and repulsed simultaneously.
If I could, I'd remove my sexual desire and be asexual.
I wish I could replace all the men in my past and replace them with women.
I wish I were guaranteed sex on my birthday every year for the rest of my life.
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