844 [not the first time and not the last]

My first instinct is to apologize, but I can’t because at the root of it all is who I am. How do you apologize for that? I am sorry I have really ugly parts that I am ashamed of?

Do you know how this feels?

It feels like the time I was 10 years old and was at the arcade at the mall with my brothers. I was playing Galaga. The protocol for ‘next game’ was to stand behind the person who was playing and put your quarter up on top against the plastic so I didn’t think anything of it when I felt someone behind me.

At first I thought maybe he had something poking out of a bag that he was holding, like a poster maybe, that maybe that was the thing that was sticking into my backside. But he was so close, so very close and big and he had his hands on the sides of the game so that meant he wasn’t holding anything and the thing was so hard poking into my behind and I COULDN’T STOP PLAYING THE FUCKING GAME! I played that game and played that game and played that game and I remember looking to the side and seeing kids walking around the arcade, walking around like nothing was happening. I kept looking for my brothers. I kept waiting for my game to be over. I don’t know why I couldn’t just run. I don’t know why I didn’t just kill off my ship and leave. I was so scared and confused and I kept playing that fucking game. It went on for hours and hours and I couldn’t see his face and I didn’t want to. He was against me like a black coat. Nobody helped me. And when the game finally ended I remember I turned to leave and he put his hand lower on the side of the game stopping me and I remember I ducked and ran.

So, that’s how I feel; the way I felt afterward; because I kept playing that game. Like it was my fault because I was 10 years old and didn’t stop playing Galaga even when a man’s hard on was grinding into my ass. Because maybe it meant I wanted it or something. It was my fault. Sixth graders beat themselves up about this in the nighttime, replaying it in their head, and when they replay it, their brothers come and save them, or they simply stop playing the game. They just stop and run and maybe if they did this, they wouldn’t hate themselves quite as much later on, feeling bad about something they could've done something about but didn't. Shame. Hate. and Deserving of it all.

I can't apologize for this. How do you apologize for your arm? Your cheek? Your skin? I am only hurting myself. I am sorry to myself. So sorry. I will save you next time. I am sorry.