It’s not okay what you did to me. It’s not okay that I’ve suppressed it and never talked about it. It’s not okay that you walk around a free man, no one knowing what you really are. It’s not okay that you told a family member I made it up for attention. It’s not okay that certain people who know what you did still talk to you, as a matter of fact, it hurts me that they do. It makes it feel like it’s acceptable that you took my childhood and my innocence away from me. It’s not okay that you’re allowed to live life as if you’ve done nothing wrong. It’s not okay that I was subjected to your presence after I told what was going on. I’ve pushed the trauma that you caused me deep down and I don’t tell anyone what you actually did to me. I don’t talk about the abuse in detail just that there was abuse. But there are still flashbacks and there are still nightmares. It affects me all these years later and it’s not okay. I’m not okay.