No Thank You. ~ CSA Trauma Writing (TW!!)

!!!This is a metaphor for CSA(Child Sexual Assault) trauma. This has passed; this is just the outcome of it after it has finished, and we do not speak to them anymore.!!!

I apologize to everyone who relates to this, it will get better.

No, thank you. I don’t want to feel as though it’s brushing my teeth—like it’s only two minutes whenever you said you would stop. Don’t touch me, no thank you. Please stop coming into my room late at night; it’s weird. No, thank you, I don’t wish to partake in things with you; I don’t want to go to the theme park, but thank you. No, thank you. I don’t want to hug you. I don’t want to feel the dirt of your hands on my skin more than I already do each day. No, thank you. Why aren’t you listening to me? I said no. No, thank you, please don’t follow me inside the bathroom. I feel uncomfortable near you. 

Please, I feel dirty.

 I feel dirty even after a shower since the incident. I can’t stop thinking about it. 

It haunts me longer than you think.

 Please, no thank you, I don’t want to brush my teeth.  I don’t want to feel the bristles rub against my teeth. Please, I beg of you; no thank you. I don’t want to cry when I can still feel the texture of the handle—The same handle that I have to touch every morning and night when you’re here. No, thank you, I don’t want to take the food you’ve made, I don’t want to brush my teeth after. Why are you still going? It’s been over two minutes. Please, no thank you. No more. My teeth are clean. Please, stop. Stop. Why aren’t you stopping? 

No, thank you. I don’t want to brush my teeth anymore. 

I can’t stand the feeling—the same feeling that constantly haunts me—the feeling that makes me sick to my stomach. 

I can’t take any more of the scent that haunts me, so I stopped eating so I don’t have to brush my teeth. I only drink coffee with some creamer. Popsicles? What are those? I can’t touch those without throwing up the things I’ve had before.

I’ve lost pound after pound, yet I can’t erase the hands you put on my body—I can’t erase you without scrubbing my skin raw until it’s beet red; bleeding; bruised. I can’t stop feeling it. I don’t want to brush my teeth anymore, I don’t want to touch anything anymore. Everything makes me dirty. Please, no thank you, I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to feel metal tap my teeth. I don’t want to taste anything.