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THE BATTLE FOR MODeRN 1923

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epilogue

becoming i   EPILOGUE

I know why my last lover raped me. At least I pretend I know why.

You see, I left a man who was adopted. The greatest pain he ever felt and knew in life was this moment.

Even if he did not register this, the emotional brain still takes note. Being abandoned was not something he was comfortable with.

When I left I embraced a moment of true bliss with another artist. One that wasn’t dedicated to more than getting to witness another soul’s existence.

I still remember his hands grabbing mine, pulling them straight into his chest upon his heart and my whispers of “will I regret this tomorrow?”

He let me make the decision of whether we would have sex. And I did not. I spent that night only basking in the joy of laying next to a man who didn’t force me. The day I left his temporary home was the day I went back to my reality.

The next day was September 4 and the phone call from my previous lover came in September 5. You already know the story from there.

What I began to understand is that this man in the clutches of losing the person he had, baring witness to her leaving, and in understanding of my deepest pain living through his deepest pain he made me relive mine. He raped me.

For him it was a childish outlash he couldn’t control while under the influence of alcohol. He knew he wouldn’t have to remember the act. And nor did he even register what he was truly doing. It was vengeful. It was misguided.

Even my own understanding guided by my therapist to believing he was capable of this act provided another circumstance that brought this once again into my life. The power of what we believe of people has a larger resonance than one can understand. Simply believing someone can do such a thing already puts them in the position to do so.

Through all of this I saw his humanity. For me, I sympathize with my rapist. Continuing to lay in his bed. Striving everyday to fight this battle with alcohol for him. It was the alcohol I blamed. Not his character. Not his decisions. Until I broke.

 
 

—alley scheffki

Flommist Alley Scheffki is 22 years young, ‘I am the blue rose. Dies ist ein wunsch für freiheit.’ Copyright © 2017 Alley Scheffki.
 
 

· · · back to  becoming i  CHAPTER 7

 
start over     alley scheffki’s  becoming i  CHAPTER ONE
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Der Tung
Posted
Sun 1 Jan 2017

FLOMM is a MODERN ART game app    art history resource    faux historical art movement
                                          that uses new media to generate interest in art history and education

FLOMM is a Trademark of Steve Mehallo, Elk Grove California 95758 USA. Copyright © Steve Mehallo. All rights reserved. FLOMM IS A SUPPORTER OF NON-VIOLENT ARTS EDUCATION.

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