Its been three years.
Three years that should have been the "time of my life".
Three years that turned into panic attacks, depression, nightmares, and constant worry.
Three years that you have taken away.
Three years of constantly feeling the touch of your hands grabbing me, touching, your body unwillingly pressed to mine.
Three years where you have impacted my life in so many ways, but you probably never, once, thought of me.
Three years that have been held in the past as I scramble to pick up the pieces of my shattered life.
I hope that you were not affected by your actions like I was. Because, three years ago, you killed the light that was inside of me; and I do not wish that on my worst enemy.
I hope that in these past three years you have had the time of your life, at what was supposed to be my home.
I hope that you were able to sleep well at night, without a single nightmare. That you were never rushed to the hospital for having such bad panic attacks that you stopped breathing.
I hope that you are not stuck in the past, but have moved on.
I do hope you remember me, and how you destroyed my being. I hope you remember looking into my scared, sleep-deprived, at the hearing that determined me responsible for your actions. I hope you remember that you will always be responsible for what you did, and that will have to answer to your actions, no matter how much the college tried to sweep it under the rug.
For three years, I have had to fight my way to find the light, the goodness in others, and restoration of my faith in humanity. It is still a rocky, uneven, undiscovered journey. But on that journey, I have found more about myself than I ever would have. I have stepped way out of my comfort zone, and have realized my self importance. I have become a stronger women, a survivor, because of you, even if it looks like I am broken at times; I am still growing stronger than that night you shattered me; and for that I forgive you.