You know i never asked for any of this. I never asked for the memories, for the pain, for the hurt. Part of me thinks I still deserve it all and another part knows that I had no control over things. I told him I loved him and at the tender age of 17 I believed he loved me too. His words meant everything to me. I had never been in love, never had a boyfriend, and now he loved me. He chose me. Little did I know that his love wasn't genuine and he'd turn my life into a living nightmare. Little did he know that he stole something so sacred from me. Little did he know 11 years later I'd still let it destroy me. He has destroyed any trust I had in guys. I keep thinking I could have stopped him if I had tried harder. I could have stopped him if I tried to fight. I could have bit, screamed, fought, but I didn't. I stopped and just let him take. The tears are falling as I write this. I sit here and think of what a wasted life I've lived. I try not to blame myself but with every passing guy I let use me, I get nearer and nearer to believing the rape was my fault. Everything after that was my fault. I know I'm vulnerable. I know that I shouldn't open up so easily but all I want is to feel loved, to feel needed but because of him raping me it all seems so far from ever happening. I'm 28, I'm alone, and I let guys fuck me not for love but for the hope of some feeling.