It's because I've realized that some situations shouldn't have happened.
And I said no to them.
Some I just didn't say anything to.
I woke up to the shadow.
God, it fucking hurt.
If you're going to do it, don't make it hurt.
And I pushed the shadow.
And he came back as soon as my arms went down.
And hurt even more.
And I'd push, and he'd hurt harder.
What was wrong with me.
Why was I passed out naked on the couch.
Why couldn't I open my eyes.
Why couldn't I move my muscles.
Why was I a sac of sand.
The shadow left.
Another came.
And it was the same again.
I pushed the shadow, and he hurt me more each time.
The second shadow left.
And I called Naukie.
She was outside trying to hang herself.

I called the taxi man who I befriended.
And he gave me a free ride home.
As I cried and cried.
I screamed and cried.
He'd been driving me around for about a year then.
I wonder what it was like to watch me change from a sneaking out boarding school kid to....Jo.

I sat in the bath tub for two hours.
I never felt clean.
I scrubbed myself with the pumice stone.
Until my skin was red and raw.
And I payed for it.
Skin in pain to remind me that I can't scrub such things off.

Happened all too often, I would scrub myself.
I alway did that to attempt to rid myself of a dirty night.

I saw the shadow multiple times after.
He would smirk.
And I would feel like a Vaseline soaked sac.
I thought that it was my fault.
That I did that to myself.
I partially did.
But the shadows could have listened.
And been softer.

I saw the shadow after moving to Santa Cruz.
He apologized kind of.

But I've known that the shadows were wrong for a while.
There are many more shadows.
And I kind of feel really freaked out.
How many times I was molested as a child.
It was by other children, so I just thought it was all a funny story.

Hey, remember when you would have me suck your dick every day when I was six?
Hahaha, yeah, I hate counting Mississippis after that.

It makes me feel so greasy.
It makes me understand why I would beat myself.
Why I would look in the mirror and feel like I had something people wanted to destroy.

And my mind has been molested.
The older kids that I spent time with.
Because everyone thought I was too weird.
And they just.
They just gave me this sexual mind frame at so young.
Back when I would use my skateboard to get around.

I've so been brainwashed twice.
By those gnarly programs.
With all of the doors locked.
And time out rooms where kids would scream blood curdling murder that I could never explain to you.
Screams with the tone of insanity.
And they destroy you.
I can't explain the mental abuse.
It only makes me angry now.
I don't believe what they told me how.
Grinding it into my skull.
As it soaks into my brain.

They also put a sexual mind frame on me.
They would tell me that I was so.
Before I even was too much so.
They made me afraid that I was too sexual.
And that I was the molester.
They kept me in a room by myself.
And I was only allowed to hang out in a common area by myself.
And out of the five people I was allowed to talk to compared to forty, my friends could only see me in twos.
Never alone.
I'll never forget that they told me I was a disease.
And that they had to protect other people from me.


I kind of feel shocked right now.
I haven't talked to anyone.
I don't really want to.

It's a downer.

It's kind of frightening being out of a relationship.
Because sexual expeditions won't be as pure.
I just want to cleanse myself, but I can't erase these things.

Sleeping with Bryce has been nice, though.
He's always been a good friend.
And it's nice to talk after.
And he's not like the shadows at all.
He's worth the expedition.

I'm really bothered by these things.
I realized them when I started talking to Bryce about how girls would attack me sexually.
And how girls were my first sexual experiences.
And it wasn't much of my choice.

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