They say the victims of sexual assault Can be at risk for dissociative identity
 For finding them selves in fragments  With an altered personality
 Maybe that's why the separation took place within my mind Between the act of sex and intimacy
 The staggering disconnect between my spirit and my body
 The way I am two separate selves my heart and my sexuality
 I remember I thought This won't happen again to me
 Not as long as I am breathing
 So when I felt the possibility I cut off all my feelings
And he said "you weren't raped you're just slutty."
And I thought "good. I would rather be."
It's easier to be a whore than to display vulnerability.
 And I still don't know if I'll ever love entirely
I'm not sure what it requires of me.
 I would rather leave my shell than risk another violating
 I still don't know if I ever have had the real thing
Or if they were all just ghosts of the first time that someone took my choice from me.
 And I'll never forget the way that he kept saying sorry
 For affording himself the privilege of my virginity
 As if the sum of what he did could be contained in an apology
 And I said "Don't fucking talk to me." For his own protection really
Cause I would have killed him if I had had the opportunity
 And it's all passed now, I don't feel angry
It's been a while since I stopped my hateful raging.
And trying to pay them all back for ever even wanting me.
For the longest time I hated men's audacity.
 But I don't now, it's as it should be.
Men were made to love to and long for the softness of our beauty.
 I just want to know how to reconnect the broken piece
Whatever makes you turn off the hyper sexuality
 How to stop returning to the safety of promiscuity.
Because when I am willing then no can ever rape me.
And I can close my eyes and leave and wake up in the morning.
But the problem is that I lose control and sex becomes self harming.
Sometimes I just go away and leave an empty body.
And when I do she always tries to kill me.
 They say secrets are a prison and the truth will set you free.
But I've always preferred to live this battle silently
 I never give much thought to what people are perceiving
 I don't really mind if I'm interpreted as easy
 For me it's never been about anything but the grieving.
and I don't have much emotional attachment to what my body's doing.
It feels like my spirit and my physical have been existing separately.
And I don't waste my time trying to analyze their activity.
 And so maybe I am finally asking What it's like to give love freely
 How to stop departing, and mentally disconnecting
 Choosing to exit and constantly uninhabiting
 The wretched way in which my soul keeps dispossessing
 What was rightfully mine from the beginning
 What I should never have let a coward steal from me.
 I want to know how to live inside my body
 Without the enslavement of the triggers and the haunting nature of my memories.
To come to terms and process what I can't stop reenacting
Hoping to find a way to end the endless hurting.
Hoping I can prove that I'm immune to victimizing.
 But my biggest fear is that I'm to blame. the author of imy suffering.
That what should have stopped with two men on cocaine
Has spawned into my destiny
 That I have manifested this destruction of identity
 With the hate I held inside and the way I was unwilling;
to stand up and find my courage and finally face acknowledging
 That eight years of my life went by and I just stayed in hiding.
 And I cannot disguise the ugly truth within my sexual history
 more men and more pain won't negate the trauma that I'm living.
 And I'm trying not to spend my life in sexual purgatory
This disconnected world of dominance and slavery
 where I am wrestling with who I am inside and who I am habitually.
Because sexual disconnection To me feels like safety.
Cause I don't claim the choices that my body keeps on making.
And I know I shouldn't live like this but I've never had much bravery,
I wrote my body off long ago, it's my soul that I'm protecting
 Beneath a facade of simply never caring.
Disguised in a lifestyle of willing immorality.
 deep down I know no one has ever known me.
That I will always feel alone because my safety is isolating.
 And I ask myself if maybe The risk of getting hurt again outweighs the pain of feeling lonely?
And if I should learn to see my physical self as more than temporary housing.
And learn to finally own her choices as my responsibility.
And connect the severed pieces of my fragmented identity.