Do you want to know why I hate being their version of a Victim? It's because once they find out, they get to blame every single fault, every frown and cut and typo and diet on my childhood. They get to say, "poor girl, poor girl. sexual abuse, can you believe it? Awful stuff. And - hush,hush - she's from a poorfamily. Oops - I mean financially disadvantaged. Unemployed mother and a despicable daddy." And suddenly they can pack it all away, tuck me neatly into a manilla folder labeled "Childhood Trauma" and file me away with all the other Eating Disorders and Cutters and Sad Faces. They blame him for every piece of me, as though it were really that simple. They hand me over, dissected for him, to be viewed at his pleasure. Suddenly it's all his and I'm right in his shadow again, because they think I'd rather give him the credit than take the blame for myself. They don't let me keep anything, anything for myself. It's all his. I am no longer Poet or Comedian or Disordered or Naughty. I'm just Abused, just Abused. Just his.