i was fifteen when the very first boy i dated raped me. and then i turned sixteen, i got into another relationship (with someone i trusted even more than my first ex) and he also raped me. and every time i slept, i thought the rape would swallow me in whole because i didn't feel like i was really living after. however, i'm not their ex. i'm not a rape victim. i'm a survivor. i have a name. and the only thing that'll engulf my shores are the waves of healing drowning my sorrows away. i am in a healthy relatiuonship now, two years after all of that, and i am so proud of myself. i'm working everyday trying not to guilt trip myself over experiencing real and consensual pleasure and at the same time getting justice for myself (in my own way) for the fact that i was too scared to report back then.