Behind the stolen face

A very personal poem based on my actual experiences. If you know, you know, and you’re probably just as culpable as the one who did this to me. Maybe someday I will share my full story openly, but for now, I sincerely wish for all other children to be educated about the many dangers of the internet. My life was devastated because of the lack of such education.

My poem:

a notification chimes
   soft blue glow in the dark
      "1 new friend request"

your face smiles from the screen
   a photo I've seen before
      in hallways, at parties, online

acceptance clicks like fate
   pixels rearrange, connections form
      a digital handshake across the void

(how strange to meet again
   in this realm of ones and zeros
      where distance is measured in bandwidth)

chat windows bloom like spring flowers
   words flow easy, familiar
      inside jokes and shared complaints

"remember when..." you say
   and I do, or think I do
      memories blurring at the edges

late nights stretch into early mornings
   secrets whispered into text boxes
      trust growing with every sent message

(it feels so real, this connection
   electrons dancing between us
      building a bridge across the digital divide)

weeks pass, or maybe months
   time moves differently online
      a continuous stream of now

small inconsistencies appear
   like glitches in the matrix
      blink and you'd miss them

a reference that doesn't quite fit
   a memory that feels off-key
      doubt, a whisper in the static

(but doubt feels like betrayal
   when friendship seems so pure
      so I push it down, deep into the code)

questions grow like viruses
   multiplying in the back of my mind
      impossible to ignore

"how did you know about...?"
   "when exactly did we...?"
      each answer spawns more questions

the fabric of our shared reality
   starts to fray at the edges
      revealing glimpses of an uglier truth

(the weight of unease settles
   heavy as unread messages
      a notification I'm afraid to open)

truth crashes through the screen
   a tidal wave of cruel revelation
      washing away the illusion

your face - not yours at all
   but a mask, a tool, a weapon
      wielded by predator's hands

the friend I thought I knew
   never existed, a cruel deception
      hiding a monster's true intent

rage burns hot as overclocked circuits
   fear and disgust coil in my gut
      trust shatters like a dropped phone

demands emerge from the shadows
   threats hidden in friendly fonts
      my youth and innocence exploited

I stand at the edge of the digital abyss
   staring into a void of betrayal
      wondering how I fell into this trap

(in the echo chamber of my mind
   anger and hurt reverberate:
      how dare they prey on children?)

days pass in a haze of trauma
   nights stretch long and sleepless
      as I grapple with the abuse

each interaction now a source of pain
   tainted by the knowledge of deceit
      like malware infecting my mind

slowly, painfully, I begin to process
   the reality of what happened
      rebuilding my sense of safety bit by bit

(it's hard work, this healing journey
   facing the pain, seeking support
      learning it's not my fault)

time doesn't erase the scars
   but it does dull their sharp edges
      allowing space for healing, for growth

I learn to navigate with caution
   in this vast digital sea
      rediscovering safety in small steps

boundaries become a precious resource
   carefully built, gently reinforced
      a shelter for my healing heart

(yet I refuse to let fear isolate me
   for in this web of connections
      genuine support can be found)

my story becomes a quiet strength
   a reminder of my resilience
      each day a step towards recovery

for in the depths of my experience
   where pain once overwhelmed
      hope now begins to flicker

I focus on my own healing journey
   one day at a time, one breath at a time
      rediscovering joy in small moments

(my inner voice grows stronger
   whispering across neurons and synapses:
      you are worthy, you are not defined by this)

and so I stand, a work in progress
   scarred but slowly healing
      learning to trust the world again

in this landscape of mixed emotions
   where past and future intertwine
      I choose to focus on my well-being

I give myself permission to heal
   to seek support, to be patient
      to rediscover my own worth

for in the end, I am more than what happened
   stronger than the pain I endured
      brighter than the screens that once betrayed me

my journey, honest and personal
   becomes a testament to resilience
      a quiet victory over digital shadows

(with each small step forward
   I reclaim pieces of myself
      until my spirit shines brighter than any pixel)