Survival

Part 15

The thing that scares me the most

Is that one day

I will have sex

And the closest thing I lived to sex are the two harassments. I am not ready. I do not know if I will ever be. I do not know if that is for me. I know I am demisexual, which means that I will feel comfortable having sex just with people I have a strong emotional connection with.

But I do not know if I will ever be ready to have sex, especially after what happened. I do not know. I still have nightmares because of what happened. I keep dreaming about finding one of them at my home, that in some way found where it is, and this fears me.

It may never happen, but I am scared in any case. I do not know what to do. I cry almost every day. I think I need a psychologist. But my parents would never understand.

It just came to my mind the first time I saw him. I liked him from the beginning. With his kind behaviour and his beautiful smile. How could he become a monster? Maybe he seemed nice to me because I still did not know him.

Yes, maybe it is that. I did not know him. It was the first person who talked to me. He was the first person that made me feel visible, in a new world. He was my first time. Not the sexual one. For the first time I was talking in a romantic way with that I liked after he knew I liked him.

That is what screwed me. That is what make me cry every day. That is what hurts every second of my life I do not trust anyone anymore. I am scared that everyone may hurt me as he did.

I am scared. I have an unbelievable fear. The guy something was happening with have the same bike as my harasser has. I just discovered it. That destroyed me. That left my soul in pieces.

I pretend to be ok. I pretend everything is fine. I pretend. I pretend every day. I pretend to not hurt people around me. I pretend to not shatter people next to me. I pretend, also to myself. I pretend, because, unconsciously, I would like these memories to go away.

I do not want to forget the harassment. The harassments. I just would like to forget the good memories I have with them. These memories give me a reason not to hate them. When Actually I should.

The truth is that I am too good to hate them. And too good to ruin their reputation. And too good to give them all the fault for what happened. It is all their fault, but people, society, people that should have care about me, put in my head that it was my fault.

And that made me believe that in some ways it also was my fault when it has never been. It is not. It is not my fault, in any case. It is all their fault, and just their fault.