@therealkimsmith

One morning I watched the sun rise, slivers of light penetrating the drawn blinds. Electric hell to my dilated pupils. The night had passed. A mystery powder appeared on the table. A straw moved from person to person as my friends for a night took their turns. When it came to me I was going in. It could have just been me and the potion provider. I didn’t need other people to convince me or show me it was safe. Snorting was my favorite mode of extracurricular ingestion. That

Well, there was a lot of alcohol involved. Words my sister, then steeped in her own wounds said to me when I told her I was raped at 24 by a guy I was dating. I wasn’t the victim of a violent crime in a dark alleyway. I’m what you might call “one of the lucky ones.” And yes. A lot of alcohol was involved. We were out getting drunk on Mill Ave. in Tempe AZ. The last thing I remember is saying “I need to go home and go to bed now.” I did not say, “Take me home and have sex with