Diary Entry #3

I lived a happy life, I lived a stable life, I lived a very joyful life: I was happy, I was happy to the point I could barely feel the happiness I felt myself, I was content because I didn't know, I didn't know the limit of happiness; I didn't know what it meant to struggle, I didn't know what it meant to be unhappy, because I lived a different life from others until that day.

Until that day where his sickenly gross calloused hand caressed my body, until that day where he whispered unto me— "ena, you're such a cute child." and defiled my childish innocence. That day I didn't know what I was happening, I didn't know what he was doing to me, all I knew was that it was out of love, or so he told me. He told me this was out of love, that he adored me deeply. Back then, I didn't know what he did to me but I knew one thing: he loved me, and being desperate to be continued to be loved, I complied, I complied when he told me not to tell anyone, I complied even when he would say things that made me uncomfortable.

Because girls were meant to be nice, they taught me that girls were meant to be submissive, to accept anything from men. I was taught to become a woman in a young age, and I wanted to become one, even before my life turned tables on me, i thought showing skin was what made a woman, i wanted to become one, i would always lift my school skirt up to thighs, I wore make up hoping to look more "adult-like", and thinking about that, I feel like, unconsciously, I was unintentionally leading myself into a terrible fate.

I think I shouldn't be feeling this way.

I brought it upon myself like everyone told me, I led him on, It was my fault, I shouldn't be feeling this way when I did this to myself. I shouldn't be weeping for the innocence I had lost when I set myself up to this fate.

I shouldn't be feeling this way.

It was my fault.

So why am I so sad?

It's pathetic really.