I learned the hard way that this body isn't mine. I learned it the same way I learned that wearing a bikini makes me a slut and sluts aren't worthy of love. I learned it the same way I learned how easy it is for a guy three years older than me to force himself between my legs. I learned it with every blow that landed on me and every meal I skipped to be worthy of love. I learned it the same way I learned that four shot guns fit out the passenger windows of a big truck, and my window isn't nearly as hard to open as I hoped. I learned it with everyday I stayed awake because I knew once I fell asleep I would die. I learned it with every adult that called me a drama queen and every friend who left out of fear. Don't sit here and tell me that my body is mine. It is anyone's but mine. Don't judge me because I tailor to others views on what I should look like, because you don't know. I had to learn with death threats from grown adults and panic attacks that made me puke. I learned with broken bones and hidden bruises. Don't sit here and tell me that my body is mine and I need to stop letting other people control it. You are wrong, and I don't want you to have to learn like I did.