What I battle every single day of my life as a child prostitute - put into PERFECT WORDS

[Trigger warning - objectification and rape references.]

I’ll never be anything more than his. I’ll never be anything more than those dollars.

People don’t know what that feels like.  To have their body, their humanity reduced to thin pieces of paper.

People say they feel worthless.  Feeling worthless is better than knowing how much you’re worth.

You are a thing and a toy and you exist only because you are a series of holes that can be filled.  You exist only to be filled.

You are not a person.  You are not a living, breathing, thinking person.  You are a mouth, and you are hands, and you are genitalia.  You are a body.  You are just a body.  You are dollar signs.

The bar code does not come off.  You can escape, or run away, or be set free.  You can run, and repress, and pretend it didn’t happen, but the bar code does not come off.  You aren’t a person.

You are a commodity.

You are a product.

You are an object.  And objects… He ruthlessly pounded it into my head. Objects don’t make any noise. 

~ jacobinesque.tumblr.com