Hey Little Apple Blossom

Oh hello, 2 am post. I haven't done one of these in a while, but seeing as I came home from school, fell asleep, and slept right up until about 20 minutes ago, I feel like the time has come for yet another late-night blogfest.

Let's do this.

My subject tonight is slightly dark, so if you're looking for humor, look elsewhere.

After I woke up and realized what time it was, I turned on my computer and fired up the old interwebs and Facebook is my home page. Do you know what the first thing I see is? This status from my dear, dear friend:

"My first kiss was my rapist's tongue shoved down my throat. Take that how you wish. All I need is for you gorgeous young women out there to hold onto your innocence. Hold onto it with all your might. Know that you are beautiful. Above all, know that you are so, SO damn strong. Don't ever lose sight of that. Don't let weak people hurt you. Only rapists are weak. Don't let him define you. By God, Kyle, you DON'T define me. I am stronger than you will ever be, you stupid son of a bitch. Ladies, we have the RIGHT to feel. To love. Love with all your might and dream with all you can."

UH. Ok, that's not exactly how I would have liked to find out about the emotional hardship that my friend has been through. Well-written, grammatically correct, and incredibly moving as it may be, this status bothers the Hell out of me.

First, why on Earth would anyone post something so personal on Facebook? I know that's a tad of a hypocritical statement to make, because I have this blog.. but almost no one that I actually know reads this blog. Facebook, though, really? I don't understand how someone could willingly bear their soul to so many people.

But enough about my own issues.

None of you know me in real life so none of you realize just how much this tears me apart. To my friends, I always end up being the one that they go to to rant or to cry or to do both sometimes (I'm a pro at handling messy breakup crying). I hold so many horrific secrets that sometimes I feel as if I'm going to explode, but I don't. And I don't tell. And my friends know that they can trust me to absorb their emotional wreckage when they need to lay down their burden for a time.

I don't know if my friend has ever told anyone about this before, but I know that this is the first time I've heard anything about her being raped. And I'm not offended that she didn't come to me or anything, that's her choice. What's bothering me is that this friend knew I was there, knew she could come to me, because she has before, but didn't.

If she could hide something like this so easily, then what else could she be concealing? I'm worried about her. Genuinely worried for her, for her sanity, for her life.

I know first hand that when people keep secrets for too long, they end up fucked beyond belief. I've been to funerals that shouldn't have had to happen because my friends chose to OD on heroin, shoot themselves in the head, or slit their wrists instead of seeking any kind of help. They did the stupidest possible thing because they didn't realize that they had people to turn to.

I've already told my friend that I'm here for her and I'm willing to provide love, support, and chocolate. I'm still worried though. I know this girl is ridiculously strong and independent, but I don't want to end up at yet another funeral, you know?

Bleh. Gut spill. Sorry about that. I think I'll go back to sleep now.

Julia