Violation

Where do I go to erase the sights of this afternoon? How do I unsee the object so often desired, enjoyed, and needed...until it is presented unwarranted or not even asked for? Why do I feel so terribly violated without having even been touched? The vision first tittilating, then disturbing haunts me and angers me. Was my dress too flashy, or my makeup insinuative? Did my smile invite the presentation? Why do I begin to cry and feel...shame? I curse myself for initially staring wide eyed at the magnificence of it and the wonder of what it must be like to touch. Then the shame returns and my tears flow as I feel reduced to being nothing more than an object or a conquest to be claimed. Never have I allowed myself to be used and yet, here, in broad daylight, on this expansive boulevard I have been used, abused, and debased. Where do I go to reclaim my life, my power, or even just to rebuild and recover from this devastation? What becomes of my self worth? Why does such a singular event threaten to destroy me so utterly and completely? I am stronger than this. Or am I?