You hear so many stories;

A woman,

In an alleyway

In a park 

In a bathroom in the bar 

In her own home. 

You hear of these girls,

Broken bones

PTSD

Scars

Stitches

When I scroll through social media 

I see these tales of,

An uncle 

A father 

A brother 

A colleague 

Note: perpetrators are men

I think 

Over those two years when it happened 

And the year in-between then and now 

Where I blocked it from my memory.

Only now has realisation hit me 

But I still feel invalid 

I spend hours 

Scrolling through websites 

That tell me I am one of them 

That I was wronged

That I am allowed to hurt

Yet I do not believe it 

Not for a second 

I don't know why 

Maybe because it was a girl 

Maybe because she was my age 

Maybe because my friends only laughed as I said no 

Maybe because my teachers saw but said nothing 

Maybe because she didn't think it was wrong 

Maybe because I didn't feel as bad then as I do now.

I do not know.

I do not know why I had a delayed response

Or why something so simple

Affects me so deeply 

But it does 

So I will own it 

For now

Because it's not just other men and women

It's me too