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05.53

I couldn’t fall asleep. Walked around confused in the streets of Copenhagen. I feel broken. I can’t shake off the feeling.

For a while I had forgotten what it felt like to be dumped because of the flashbacks and rape. But then it happened again.

My hands are shaking. Again. And I still can’t seem to fall asleep. I’ve honestly lost count of all the fucking people I’ve scared away because of the flashbacks and such.

Anonymous: Hi Aphinya, just wanted to stop by and tell you how lovely you look in your recent selfies. Even if you were faking it for the picture you have a beautiful smile. I hope you're doing reasonably well considering your recent experiences and want you to know I'm really hoping for life to stop throwing so many road bumps in your path. Stay strong beautiful, you can make it. :)

Thanks ❤️❤️❤️❤️

I texted Kristian, asking if we’re okay. He said he couldn’t handle it. “It” being the rape.

Shit. I feel so utterly tainted right now. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I feel like a fucking freak.

Jesus fuck. I didn’t want to scare him away, but he kept asking why I didn’t want to fuck. He wouldn’t stop asking. In the end, I didn’t know what the fuck to do, besides telling him.

Wednesday morning

It’s almost 7am. I haven’t really slept the last couple of days. My hands are shaking, my thoughts are becoming increasingly blurry. Being dumped over the rape makes me feel like used goods. 

I didn’t want to tell him. But he kept asking me why I didn’t want to fuck. I tried to dodge his question, but to no avail. In the end, I told him. I didn’t want to scare him away, but I didn’t want to be dishonest either. He pulled away.

I wasn’t emotionally invested in him. I mean, whatever we had was too brief. So it’s not him I’m upset over. But being dumped like you’re no good because of a rape? Fuck. That hurts. Looking at myself makes me feel ambivalent. I just.. Idk. I want to scratch off my skin, I guess. I can’t fucking describe how dirty, tainted and used I feel. Jesus fuck. Being awake feels so depressing right now. 

Also, I’m on my period. I’m craving salty chips, chocolate, chocolate filled croissants + baked goods….. dipped in fish sauce and ground chilies. whaaaaaaat the fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck 

  • Malmø Pride
  • Malmø Pride
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  • Malmø Pride
  • Malmø Pride
  • Malmø Pride
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Malmø Pride

I biked home to K. We’ve been in contact pretty much since he left my place a few days ago. He’d made risotto. We drank wine, kissed and cuddled a little before dinner. I rode his face before we went back to the kitchen to eat. We went back to bed after dinner. I was jerking him off when he asked why I didn’t want to have sex. At first I tried distracting him, ignoring his question and whatnot. But then the question popped up again. 

I mumbled that I feel kind of ambivalent about sex for the moment. He asked why. I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to scare him away either. I kept hesitating whenever I was about to say what had happened. I kept going back and forth about whether to tell him or not. But in the end, I told him. 

I told him about the rape, while I jerked him off. I told him about the last time someone fucked me, how I had started fucking crying, shaking and thinking about the rape. He mumbled “shit”. I kept jerking him off. 

I asked him if it felt odd, to be jerked off while hearing about rape. He looked away and said yes. Things got a little terse after that. I panicked a little and said some shit like “Uh.. You had a condom, right? We can fuck if you want to”. He said hearing about the rape was harsh. That he didn’t exactly felt like fucking me. I was still jerking him off. I let go of his dick and turned my back to him.

We got out of bed a little after that. He had to attend some garden party and I had promised to go back to Strøm Festival to meet up with Lyra, Susanne, Alice, Signe and Kimmi. We were sitting in the kitchen, when he asked me if I’m okay. I smiled and said yes. While looking away. He asked me if I’m sure. I smiled again and walked over to him. I hugged him and mumbled yes as I looked up at the ceiling, wondering if I’ve scared him away. 

I teared up on my bike ride back to Strøm. Not because I was sad, but because I was so fucking angry. Angry at.. Him. The rapist. Angry at how I feel like fucking used goods because of him. But mainly I felt angry at myself.

I haven’t slept for a few days now. My hands are shaking, my heart keeps beating like a fucking drum. I can’t seem to relax.

An acquaintance called me last night. I wanted to talk. I.. I just didn’t know what to say. I started crying over the phone. Mumbled “I’ll talk to you later” and hung up. An hour or two later, I got up. I guess I was tired of feeling so pathetic.. You know, Crying while curled up in bed. Heh.

Then I biked around Copenhagen. Ended up at Amager beach a few hours later. Jumped in the water. Then I biked to school. Had a class at 8AM. Arrived with pieces of algae stuck in my hair.

“He was fighting to save his life to the very end, till he was completely burned up,” Jarecke says of the man he photographed. “He was trying to get out of that truck.”
 - excerpt from http://www.theatlantic.com/features/archive/2014/08/the-war-photo-no-one-would-publish/375762/

“He was fighting to save his life to the very end, till he was completely burned up,” Jarecke says of the man he photographed. “He was trying to get out of that truck.”


- excerpt from http://www.theatlantic.com/features/archive/2014/08/the-war-photo-no-one-would-publish/375762/

The guy who did it keeps reaching out once in a while. Calling me. Liking shit I’ve posted online (he doesn’t know about my blog tho). Asking what I’m up to.

He fucked me against my will. My cunt was messed up for a long time because of him. I was forced to walk around with a motherfucking tampon locked in my cunt because of him. I needed stitches in said cunt because of him. I tried pushing him away, kept saying no. Yet he continued, until he bled from his motherfucking dick.

Despite all that, he just doesn’t get it. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.

I want to fucking castrate him. I want him to fucking suffer. I fucking hate him. I hate how the thought of him makes me want to cry and kill myself. I hate how paranoid he makes me feel.

I don’t know what to write these days. Writing used to help, used to make everything feel a little less painful for a while. 

But now? I don’t know. Whenever I try writing, I just.. I don’t know. I really don’t. I feel apathetic. The insomnia is getting worse. Haven’t slept for a few days now. My hands are shaking. I can’t seem to focus. I can’t make myself look at people while I talk.

Another thing- the guy who raped me called earlier today. Haha. What the fuck. I broke down crying. I had planned to go outside, seizing the day and all that shit. But now I can’t make myself go outside. I fucking can’t. He was my friend. Or so I thought. He was supposed to be a good guy. 

I guess I’m sorta losing it.

offendedasian: Your bangs are bangin'!

My bangs salute you

Anonymous: You actually know me (we talked on OkCupid a few years ago from NYC and I just stumbled on your blog). I'm sorry that things aren't working out for you. We all find ourselves in really strange predicaments sometime. I hope things get better. In the meantime, your friends seem very supportive and nice - stay with them, keep away from douchebag guys. -S

I really have no idea of who you are. This is frustrating.