Tomorrow, I will sit silently as I hear another rape joke, letting it hit the wall I’ve put up, blinking hard when my eyes start to prickle.

Tomorrow, I will wait until I’m around people who agree with me to vent my discontent at the way we’re treated.

Tomorrow, I will pretend not to notice the hilarious comment about domestic abuse from my classmate.

I’ll tell myself, “tomorrow I’ll say something,” “if he does it again I’ll call him on it,” but I don’t.

I never do.

For all my words, all my critical thinking— (what good does critical thinking do?)— I rarely say anything when it really matters.

Later I will cry to someone, my big sister, my friend, my RA, and they’ll assure me I’m not overreacting.

But that won’t change anything. Because the next day, I’ll hear another “joke.” And it will just be another slap in the face.

How many until I can’t take it anymore?

Am I too afraid of being seen differently in my peers’ eyes?

Too afraid of being branded as the girl who can’t take a joke?

Or am I afraid of putting my emotions on display?

Tomorrow, I will cry inside, and say nothing.

I will promise to be stronger next time.

The day after tomorrow, I will cry inside, and say nothing.

How long until I speak?

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Freddy-May A.
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