A Letter To A Ghost

It’s me I guess.

I would ask how you have been to make you comfortable, but unfortunately, comfort is a word that I’ve long forgotten. Why exactly am I writing you in the first place? Well, let’s eliminate some reasons. I’m not writing you to ask how your life is doing. I kind of already know, due to the overwhelming number of friends that we have in common. I hear about you whenever I talk to them, on how you’re doing so well. But that’s not why I’m writing to you.

I am writing to you to fully explain to you, what have you done to me, the crime that you have silently committed. What you thought was, just a case of hurting someone’s feelings. You did more than just hurting my feelings. You violated my body when you put your body on top of mine, and put your fingers inside of me. You made me bleed and damaged a part of my body. You re-traumatized me again, leaving me with feelings that I knew too well, the feelings of sexual assault. When I tried to confront you on what you had done, I didn’t try to accuse you of sexual assault, because I used to believe that it was a simple misunderstanding, yet I still felt like something terrible had been done to me. However, you simply brushed me off, accusing me of being hysterical and obsessive.

People around me would just tell me, “move on”, including you. But how can I move on from the past when the past cannot move on from me? Please explain the nightmares of you raping me or attacking me. Please explain the flashbacks of that night. Please explain to me why I have an anxiety attack every time I see you, and how I can’t breathe properly, nor eat during the attack. I have PTSD and depression from all of the damage you have caused.

The thought of penetrative sex scares me. I have medical problems now, because of the high influx of cortisol slowly breaking down my body. I’ve isolated myself from the community that we are in, because I do not want to run into you. Because we work in similar fields, I am worried that I will have to go on medication if I end up in the same workplace as you, to make sure that I can function. I can’t open up to anyone about my situation, because who would believe me?

You were a bright promising computer science student who was an RA, someone in a position of power. I was a gay kid who was just recovering from the recoils of sexual assault before she met you. I have severe mental problems and I isolate myself because, who would believe me?

There was once a time where I did nothing but adore and look up to you. There was once a time where I believed that I could love you one day, and overcome my past. There were days when I wished that you would come back. But now I know those days are long gone. I’m now sad because I once adored and looked up to you. Now I don’t know if I can ever love a man. You’re not coming back, and even if you did, I don’t know if I would want you back. I guess a part of me has moved on, because I don’t think that having you love me would magically change all the problems between us.

I’m not writing to accuse you of hurting me. I am just trying to inform you of your actions and how they have affected my life. Please look back and reflect on what you have done before you hurt anyone else. Hopefully having you clearly listen to me will help us move on fully.