drunkencynic's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- torn apart once again I got slightly taken advantage of last night. I'll paint the scene for you. It is nighttime. At the beach. Sarah is extremely drunk and a little high, everyone has already gone skinny dipping (yeah, remember that entry where I said I wouldn't do that again? I lied), and now my clothes are wet because I washed the sand out of them with water. It's very cold. The party (Alison and I being the only girls again- the other six are all young boys under seventeen [but no younger than fourteen]) has decided to sleep. Easier said than done. We are trying to sleep on a dewy grassy patch. There are a few sleeping bags opened up to allow several people to sleep on them. I plop down on one and try to sleep. It's freezing cold by now. Somehow I manage, and wake up who knows how much later, with the arm of the boy next to me around my shoulders. Which is good. Until he starts feeling me up. And down. Keep in mind that I'm still messed up, and half-asleep. So I let him. And it goes much, much further than I would have wished (although still completely one-sided). Finally I sober up enough to be totally disgusted and swat him away, get up, and go to the car, which is parked surrepitiously a good walk away. It makes me feel wretched, absolutely wretched. It's like one of those clich�d stories you read in teen magazines. It Went Too Far. "I should have stopped him, I didn't want it, I don't know what was wrong with me." Disgusting. I feel so unclean, and so disloyal to myself. Writing about it sure has been cathartic, though, I'll tell you. Fuck. I thought I respected myself. I think I should just stay away from things that alter my common sense. At least while there's not anyone around to watch out for me. God I missed JR. I miss JR. He's on another island for a couple days. I want him to take it away from me, to soothe me and tell me I'm beautiful, and special, and it wasn't my fault. But I'm afraid that he'll be disgusted with me, or worse, angry. Help me. 1:44 p.m. - 2003-11-01 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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