Tuesday, January 12, 2010


I am unconscious.

I found this post with no tittle. Weird. I don't remember making it. I talk in my sleep but seriously no one blogs in their sleep. Which means my memory has gone to crap or someone is messing with me.

But I was thinking about something kinda serious, so off the lighthearted track please. The rest of this post is about rape so you can stop reading if you want to.

Sometimes I am tortured by my own thoughts. Sometimes when I am down I think about Jason.

I think about how good of friends we were. We met in Geometry sophomore year of High School. I copied off of him, I wouldn't have passed if it wasn't for him. We became good friends the next year really. John, Trin, May, Jay and I were all good friends. I used to go to his house every day after school. We would measure how long it took to get somewhere by how many times Le Tigre's song "Deceptacon" could repeat. We were both really into the Beatles anthology. He is tall and pale with curly brown hair and sparse facial hair. He was an eagle scout, I was at the ceremony. We read comics, watched movies, played video games, cooked together and talked about everything. He would sit down and go "Girl Talk!" and we would have tea and talk about our 'girly problems'. Like people we were dating or wanted to date, or about our sex lives. I had a very active sex life in High School, but I only dated two guys. Jay dated two girls, but he was an ass to the first one.

We went to the city together and to his cabin for snowboarding (his dad tried to teach me). We shared a limo to prom and crashed at his house afterwards. My mom would say "now why don't you date him!" But I always said he was more like a brother. And we both agreed on this. As time went on I got dumped and was sad. John was more into drugs and PJ started to hang out with us. We would sit in John's room smoking the hookah and listening to records. Sometimes drinking beer or whiskey. John had some Wild Parties. We only had one party at Jay's, his 21st. Be got me wasted by slipping more alcohol in my drink every time I wasn't looking. I got so sick. Pj stayed with me all night and took care of me. Be and Jay went upstairs and watched porn, and he hit on her which she just thought was funny. Kinda bugged me. Once he had us all over for a pool party at his neighbor's house. He caught me and my ex doing it in the changing room. All my graduation pictures have us next to each other. He used to come over and hold my brother Dean, who was born the year we graduated High School. We were friends for years and all this stuff gets mixed in.

Then one day somewhere in the Spring of 2006 there was a party at John's house. Jay had got dumped and was sad and knew I was still sad about being dumped by Westly. And Jay had spent the last few weeks trying to convince me that drugs would help me feel better. At least for the night, and didn't I deserve a night of fun? So Pj sold Jay some oxy. He crushed it up and put it into lines for me. I told him I was nervous. He rolled up a dollar bill.
"Just put one finger on this nostril and put the dollar straw in the other, and snort it."
And I did.
I was surprised at how quickly I felt it. It was like water pouring down over my head. Relax. It said relax.
John was doing some DOB (like Acid). Jay went out of the room, and so did PJ. I laid down. My limbs felt heavy. Everything was heavy. I wanted to sleep. I could hear Jay on the radio, they had him call in and he sounded stoned. Everyone laughed in the other room.
I took a sudden breath. I realized I hadn't been breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. I had to concentrate.
Jay came in and laid next to me in John's twin bed. I'm not sure if John was there or not.
Jay stroked my hair. That was nice. My hair was in my face. I couldn't raise my arm to move it.
He kissed my forehead. ok.
He kissed my neck. What is he doing?
"No Jay". It was a whisper. Where had my voice gone?
He breathed into my ear. Kissed my ear. My neck. Pressing against me.
"Jay, stop. no" quiet quiet my voice was so small.
He kissed further down on my neck. my chest.
"no" I couldn't say it louder. my head was swimming. stay awake. breathe. stay awake.
He was getting on top of me. so heavy. I can't breathe. he is so heavy.
"don't. " I tried to push him off. I don't think my arms could even lift from my sides. So heavy.
"please." I closed my eyes. "please don't" so quiet.
I heard someone open the door. I tried to say help but I had no breath. heavy. heavy. Stay awake.
The door shut. Heavy. Hands going down my top.
Escape, Sky. Go to sleep.
I woke up.

I was on the twin bed with him laying next to me. My brain felt fogged. I didn't really remember yet. I pushed myself off the bed. I didn't know why but I didn't want him laying next to me. So tired. I laid on the floor next to John. He turned on Pink Floyd's Dark side of the moon. I drifted in a hazy sleep. Kind of awake. The music was rocking me in a lull.
The clocks rang on the album. It was like that fogged window I was looking through shattered. I was awake. I was frightened. And everything came back. I remembered what happened. I went to the bathroom. I checked my vagina. Something was up, but I couldn't feel if there was any sperm. I felt confused. I went back to John's room. Laid down on the floor.
"Hey Jay?"
"Hmm?" he said in a sleepy voice.
"Do you remember what happened last night?"
"Do you remember...uh....kissing my neck?"
"Kind of..."
"You did more than kiss me I think. I asked you to stop and you didn't."
"I don't know about that."
John was sitting up now, he said "I saw you guys on the bed. You looked like you were having sex."
"I didn't want to have sex." I said. I felt like I was going to puke.

"I got to go."
I got up on shaky legs. I walked downstairs. John came out.
"You alright?"
I went outside. Got in my car. I sat for a minute before starting it. What to do.
I thought about Jay. I thought about John. I thought about the oxy.
Should I report it?
No one will believe me. And I'll have to tell the police and the court and everyone. And they'll point out how I was on drugs. My parent's will know. John isn't a good witness they'll say.

As I turned the key I remember thinking, no. I'm going home. I'm going to take a long hot shower. I was determined.
I didn't want anyone to look at me.
I felt guilty in the shower, cleaning under my nails.
I hesitated as I threw my panties into the washer.
I didn't want to eat. I felt sick.
My dad touched my shoulder and I jumped, my whole body pulled away. I remember him looking at me, as if he could see something was wrong.

Sometimes I think what would have happened if I pretended like nothing happened. If I was still Jay's friend. I miss having a best friend. Always willing to hang out when I call. But then I remember how he raped me. My nightmares. I felt so guilty. And why didn't John stop him? I remember how slowly more people knew. How everyone told me to not say anything. Not make it a big deal. It changed who I hung out with. I was worried about running into him all the time.

The weirdest part was having my friends still hang out with him. I told John, Karen, and Maria soon after. A few weeks later Jay left John when he was O.D.ing, and John still talks to him. I just can't understand. Once I broke down crying and I told my mom, I blurted it out. She had been asking and asking me why Jay wasn't hanging around. She held me as I cried. She told me every summer her Grandfather would molest her, every night. She never told anyone and she spat on his grave when he died. What the fuck. When I told Karen she told me about how she was raped. Maria told me about her rape.

I was walking down the street next to the park, walking my dog when John called. He told me PJ killed himself. His mom had found him in the garage with the car running. I remember when PJ killed himself. I went to the funeral. I was crying when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I could smell him as I turned my head. Jay. He opened his mouth to say something and I ran out of there. The services were just ending and I lost myself in the throng of people leaving. The beginning of the most depressed I've even been. Months later I went to a therapist; she asked me what was wrong, but I couldn't talk. When the words tried to come out my voice was gone. I was quiet like then. And I just sat there and cried.

Sometimes I miss him. I just wish someone loved me and could hold me.

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