In Someone Else’s Words

There’s something I just have to say.

Gonna tell the world, make it understand

There’s a place in my heart where nobody’s been

I’m unusually hard to hold on to

I’m gonna love myself more than anyone else

Anything less than the best is a felony.

                                  March 2008

One of the gal’s who sits on the Board of Directors with me has a daughter a few years younger than myself.  Through conversations thrice yearly at meetings, I’ve found that her daughter and I are quite similar:  Interior Designers, engaged young, but never made it down the aisle, and just recently learned, date rape drug victims.

Freshman year of college, having fun, partying, going to class when I woke up on time–away from home and parents for the first time.  The bar had two draws:  Penny Pitchers (it’s exactly how it sounds) and “What would you do for $100?”   He was an officer with Campus Police who patrolled outside my dorm; we became friendly during that semester.  Turns out, off duty he was anything but admirable.  I don’t remember too much other than being told I had won the contest, and later woke up in his dorm room-with a headache from hell and without the $100 or my watch.

Ever since that night I’ve been different.  It happened while I was engaged.  I could do nothing to stop it.  A gentle caress has never felt the same since–unwilling stomach spasms have taken it’s place.  I’ve reserved a little piece of myself since then, never fully divulging information to my friends, my family, or my significant others.  It’s been my cross to bear, but I can’t carry it any longer.  I am the most important person in my life.  I didn’t fully realize that until talking with my friend. Her daughter is going through now what I so well remember from 8 years ago.