I didn’t get to write my story of my childhood. Pedophiles wrote it. Other victims of all ages who are used, abused, sold, held hostage, had their stories stolen. The life they were meant to be living, they are not. They are now, we are now, trying to mend, mostly on our own, because society does not want to hear our stories. Society doesn’t want to know about rape in the military. Society doesn’t want to change laws or persecute/prosecute the criminals of these horrific crimes. Society doesn’t want to know about the mutilations that still happen to little girls. Society is made up of millions of little YOUS. Millions that are sitting back with your glass of wine, watching your flat screen tv, and doing NOTHING. You get the luxury of choosing to do nothing.
A letter to all who choose to do nothing in the face of abuse,
I didn’t get to choose my story. Someone else wrote it for me. They came in, to each chapter of my book, and rewrote it. I didn’t get to choose.
My destiny was interrupted. My course was sabotaged. The lines in my purpose and will on each page and each moment of my life were crossed through. They were blacked out with a marker. My story was indefinitely interrupted and I had no choice.
I did not get a choice. Someone stole my story! They tore out pages I will never get back! I will never get back some of the things I have lost in my book of life. I will, for the rest of my life, try to smooth out the pages.
I was sacrificed. My childhood, my teenage years, were sacrificed for the…
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