Please don’t touch me

FUCK. How much no is no enough? I was uncomfortable. I was touched wayyyy too much. For the first time, maybe not really the first time, safe felt very unsafe. I kept trying to get away. I didn’t want to be touched. No part of me. Not my hand, not my foot, definitely not a lingering touch. I didn’t want it. I didn’t like it. It terrified me. I’d be an idiot to say I never saw it coming. Of course I could. But I tried to trust. I want to fucking believe that love just…is the good part.

Then we came inside. Already feeling vulnerable. Already in (extremely physical) pain, already crying. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t notice (a different him). We do it in the bathroom. Tears already in my eyes from being touched unwantingly beforehand. Is it me? What could I have done better? I never wanted this.

He told me he was uncomfortable feeling the things he felt about me. He told me he knew it was wrong. He told me anyway. He touched me anyway. He lingered when I tried to move away. I just want to be loved without being touched that way. Why can’t I? Why can’t it ever not be this way? Why can’t love be anything but this. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m wrong.

I fucking feel destroyed. I want someone to love me and it be safe. Why can’t anything be safe. This feels like it. I can’t be anywhere.
I don’t know what safe means.

I just want to stop trying.

I can’t keep getting hurt.

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