PTSD.

I wish I had learned what it was like to be touched by a man. I wish I knew that not all men are kind and not all touches are the gentle caress that novels romanticize. I wish I knew how to decipher the signs and the clues that were seemingly spoken in a different language. I wish I knew that it is not unusual for a man to hurt a woman. For a man to disrespect her and take advantage of her. I wish someone had told me that he wasn't the man I thought he was. I wish someone would tell me it wasn't my fault. Maybe I could have known that no one would believe me, and no one would support me. Maybe I would understand that what happened to me was traumatic, as I am told I have PTSD. The diagnosis doesn't surprise me, but I can't help but wonder what would have happened if someone had told me my worth and my rights as a woman. I wonder what would have happened if I had screamed rather than lying frozen in fear, surrounded by my sleeping friends. Maybe someone will tell girls someday that a man will come along and promise them the world but warn them that they can also take it all away.