Some time this week my stepdad will be 70.
I will not be celebrating, but being told has sent memories crashing back into me. I see with a clear how he taught my only worth was being a whore.
So happy birthday. One day closer to your death.
You surrounded me with porn.
When I wanted picture book – say Babar, The Tiger Who Came to Tea, Tintin, Alice – you give pictures I could not know. Pictures that wrenches my gut, pictures that froze to that moment I stare into them.
Porn made lose my visual imagination – I could bear that all that all I saw was pain and fear.
Seeing bodies floating through my waking sleep, bodies with dead eyes, bodies with pain aching into my skin.
Porn give me no peace.
Only it taught me to close down. Your present for through porn was pain is waiting for – don’t know when, but know pain is all you deserve.
And by god you waited.
You did not fuck, sorry you never penetrated me, just everything else.
When you did abuse me, you had made me ready.
You had made me ready by speaking of how sexy I was. It was you who spoke of prostitution over the dinner table, speaking of how you screwed them.
You prepared me by buying me expensive stuff when I kissed, and let in your tongue. Stuff came when you put your near or “accidentally” into my cunt.
I was your little whore before you did what you may consider serious “lovemaking”.
That what you called it.
What you did as I lay frozen. As your mouth eat out my cunt, as you moved my hand to rub your dick, as you thought you taught how to suck your dick.
You bloody trained me to be a prostitute.
Only you choose to forget all that abuse. You have settled into your lies that you nothing much wrong.
You create myths round yourself. Saying it was affection, and I didn’t understand. You were just showing me love.
Well, fuck your love.
Love is not sucking dick. Love is not being frozen in fear. Love is rubbing dick like a robot. Love is not seeing hard-core porn.
So be 70, but get out of my life.