It was just a thought.

There's that song I heard in church when I was little that goes "Oh be careful little eyes what you see, for the Father up above is looking down with love, so be careful little eyes what you see..." The song continues to warn our ears of what they hear,  and our mouths of what we speak. And I used to think it was because God was trying to control everything. Now I've realized it's really for our own benefit. Since December of 2008, there have been too many movies with graphic rape scenes that have rattled me to the core- taking me back to the cold cement floor of the stairwell. My little eyes haven't been as careful as they should be. I've grown a lot since December 2008 but when I see some poor girl emulating the fear and rawness I felt it puts me right back underneath that boy's forearm, tears on my cheeks and a fire in my belly. I continue to heal daily. Sometimes it feels like I take a step forward and then I get pulled backwards and fall on my ass. It gets easier and easier to get back up though. Each time I fall, I feel like I have more reasons to get back up than the last time. And that's good. But what I've come to realize is that when I do watch a movie that's a little too...er, rapey...it messes with the healing of that spot in my heart. The spot that's all super glued, Scotch taped, stitched, patched, and soldered. Every time I see a portrayal of the violent attack I endured, a couple of those seams pop and it starts to bleed a little bit. The thing is that I really do feel better and so I always think, Oh I'm so much stronger now...I can watch this...it's fake anyway, right? The other day I watched this movie about two teenagers who get abducted and in one scene, the abductor is raping the thirteen year old virgin and you can't even see it. You can only see her face, scrunched up in pain, tears flowing from shock-filled eyes, and then he rests his hand beside her face on the table he has her pinned face down on, and there is blood covering his fingers. My stomach, ugh, it feels sick even now remembering it. Even though I was disgusted, disturbed beyond all coherency, I couldn't stop looking. I couldn't tear my eyes away from her's. And it was fake. She was an actress, he was an actor. The blood was a mixture of corn syrup and red dye. But I was sick. I was in the stairwell. My lady parts hurt. My heart was breaking for the poor little fake thirteen year old girl on the screen. When the movie was over all I heard in my head was "Oh be careful little eyes what you see, oh be careful little eyes what you see, for the Father up above is looking down with love, so be careful little eyes what you see..."