It's been one year, three months, and 18 days and sometimes I can't stop thinking about it. The only things are images of him above me, in front of me, inside me. How I tried to make it go faster because I couldn't figure out how to leave and there was no one there to help me, no one except him. How very very small I felt sitting on the edge of his bed with him in front of me. How he said "i'll have to enter you" when I said I wanted to be done and go home. How I took off my shoes and ran back to my dorm with mud on my feet. How I got up and went to class at 9:30 the next morning and how I've done that every day for 475 days since then. I just try not to think about it, because when I do, I can't stop