Bring Brave Miss World to your community or campus
to spark conversation, awareness and change.

>> Click here to host a screening

Sharing your survival story can inspire others who may be
victims of sexual assault to receive the help they need.

>> Click here to join the conversation

Buy a T-Shirt or make a donation and be part
of the solution for rape awareness and prevention.

>> Click here to make a donation
>> Click here to buy a t-shirt

A Year After

My journal entry on April 18, 2017
-About a year after submitting my “first story” on this site

I just made a beautiful, clean cut, with a blade I took from my Mom’s drawer, right below the most prominent, bulging stretch mark on my right hip. I did it to remember the pain I have gone through in the last 24 hours. Last year, just around this time, I was raped. I spent months thinking it was my fault for being that drunk. Before that, I struggled with an eating disorder, triggered by the self loathe I had for myself after being repeatedly dumped or denied, and not feeling good enough. Things got better. I took a year off to study abroad in Spain, trying to find myself. The first semester was great, I only binged and purged a few times a month, but this came with from lots of stress with school and being away from home, and later weight gain. I kept binging and purging with subconsciously knowing the reason I was doing it was because it was what I deserved. I failed two classes that semester. I’ve never failed a class in my life. As time went by, I returned home for christmas- to see that there was no place for me back at home. My friends and family had moved on. Feeling this way, I immediately escaped back to Europe, running away from my problems. The only good that has come from moving out here is that I don’t find joy in weed or alcohol anymore. I’m much more content with the constant pain I feel in my head, stomach, mouth, and heart. The second semester was off to a great start. I accidentally found a group of amazing girls from around the world that really cared about each other. They mean the world to me. I gained confidence and longed for and adventurous life from their impact. So, I decided to give dating a shot again, to make memories. I met a boy that was way out of my league. He is a beautiful boy, fluent in three languages (including Chinese), and a great digital artist. I fell for him, because the way he treated me, I saw it reflected on how I treated myself. It was a boy that was so much better than me, in so many different ways. I noticed myself trying – going on runs, cooking healthy meals, and reading books I never had the instinct to do. After two months, things started to get intimate, I started to open up to him. So, I said why not. I made love to him. It was a scary thing for me, I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, but he enjoyed it and he enjoyed me, or so I thought. After one more visit things took a turn for the worse. I felt so uncomfortable with him. There is nothing sexy about a man biting your neck like a dog. There is nothing sexy about a man repeatedly whispering in your ear asking “what I want him to do to me.” What I want is to be left alone. There is nothing sexy or pleasant about a man surprise slipping his dick into your ass without notice. When he left, I couldn’t help but to cry and then eat my feelings, then later purging everything up because I felt disgust. What have I let people do to me? The next day I got a text. Maybe none of it was meant to hurt me , but it did more than ever before. He said that he liked me very much, but that my weight was affecting his attraction to me. I told him that it was a shame that my size 6 wasn’t small enough for him. That is when I started to starve myself. I kind of like the feeling of starving myself. It gives me this sort of control, like I can achieve something. All of this pain and agony has brought me such inspiration. I feel artistic in a way. So thank you to the conservative, image obsessed boy who did this to me. I really didn’t think my self worth could go any lower, but you’ve proved me wrong.

— Survivor, age 20

1 comment

  • Antonio


Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *