Between the Lines

TW: This piece contains personal experiences of sexual trauma, emotional manipulation, and healing. It’s not written for pity or shock— it’s written because truth deserves a voice. Forgiveness is complicated, but healing begins by reclaiming the narrative. - I was 8 years old the first time I was touched against my will. I was in the second grade, sitting in class working on a paper at my table when the boy sitting beside me asked me if I “ really had boobs .”  He reached over and touched my chest as he said it. I was left feeling ashamed and awkward, because I knew it was wrong. But I just turned back to my classwork and didn’t say anything.  A few years later, I was walking into a grocery store with my mom when a grown man passing us looked at me and said, “ nice shirt .” I was 11 years old. I was so innocent I thought he was genuinely talking about my shirt. I was wearing my first padded bra. My mom had to discuss it with me and explain what he really meant.  When I wa...

I had a dream last night.  It was just like any odd dream, til it hit me that it wasn’t . It was a callback to a seed that was planted nearly three years ago. A wake up to personal power.  I was at someone’s housewarming party. But it was the housewarming party for someone that I don’t know. I have met him in passing in waking life, but I’ve never exchanged a word with this person. I only know of them through their art, their creative expression— but not in any form of a personal way. But anyways, back to the dream.  I’m standing outside of this beautiful home in the yard, observing everyone there. I wasn’t noticed much by anyone, and while no one knew me, I knew them. I knew who they all were. But I was just a fly on the wall, an observer to a life I’ve never personally lived— but I was there. I was one of them.  Somehow I switched indoors, and I was sitting on a bed with multiple people. We were all relaxed, watching something together on a tv. I was under the blan...