Guess we're doing this
Trigger Warning:
These are fictional entries from a teenage trafficking survivor’s journal. They contain raw thoughts on trauma, abuse, and survival—including themes of sexual violence, suicidal ideation, and psychological harm. Please take care while reading.
(Not mine. They made me add it. Up to you.)
The Pages I Never Meant You to Read
Congratulations. You found the shit I buried. Wrote it to stay sane. Hid it to stay safe. Hope it wrecks you less than it wrecked me.
That's enough for now. Some things feel too loud once they're out. I'll try again when they don't.
Telling it costs. And soda's not cheap
Some of this stuff’s harder to say than it looks.
If you want to spot me a soda, cool.
If you want to throw extra toward the one helping me get it down—
She’s the one making this mess make sense.
Might not seem like much.
But it adds up. So does surviving.
If you made it this far, there’s more.
It’s through that button.
Free. Unfiltered.
Might hit harder.
And yeah—soda helps.