You don't remember being 16, but you like to believe you do.

The video at the end of this read is during an afterglow at a plaza super early in the morning thinking about how I wish I had the person I wanted by my side.

No one exactly knows this story.

I don't exactly remember it.

I do remember seeing the sunrising when I watch back at the video. I remember the picture I took of that I either no longer have or is lost somewhere in the ether.

I remember the song and trying to find it exactly how it sounded in the video and I couldn't. It was the first time I had heard the song and I just remembered how hard life must be for everyone.

How I felt–the world was still new and I had every chance in the world. I try not to talk nostalgic, I still wake up believing I have a chance and I do.

Being young and panicking silently about growing older gets in your way and that is what I did. When you have no one to help you take your time and all you want to do is rush to figure something out so you don't get caught in a 9-5, you stress yourself out everyday and not remember.

You don't remember to enjoy your life.

If you did enjoy your life then hopefully it was with memories of yourself and not of others and not of things that went wrong in your life because I remember those.

I don't remember enjoying myself.

I also had moments. Don't go...

I was unhappy but not as unhappy as I would become in not trying when I should've tried and hoping I would find people who would try with me.

I was always looking for a way to fit in to the world, like everyone says teens do in movies and songs. I always felt apart from everyone. I couldn't talk to people. I wasn't shy from what I could tell but people always called me shy so I guess that put me into the shy category when really I was hurt.

The highlight of this time was me driving around in my stick-shift car, smoking weed and masturbating because I couldn't talk to girls. I didn't live the way I wanted.

I hate to have a story.

Some people are lucky enough not to have a story but I have one.

As simple as saying being molested or raped depending on how you would see it.

To what someone can understand and disagree with–it was terrible to notice it once I got out of high-school. All I knew throughout schooling was that I was mad, I was also upset and I didn't know why but I kinda knew why... because... I couldn't talk to people.

I never thought too much about what happened and delaying on saying anything had me going in and out of psychward when the cousin who had done so to me appeared during a Christmas.

There was a sudden that made me fall into a state of impending doom.

During this I was unable to pay for anything as I sought to take my about 3 poetry writings to New York in an attempt to become a helper in the world that was falling apart right before my eyes. It felt as if I didn't go, that everything would have... died... so I went. Every turn I took on the highway getting lost trying to find a gas station I would see the same van and person in a suit and sunglasses as if I was being watched.

On the radio it was songs about love on the brain and needing love and attention, that Future and Rihanna song. It felt bad. It felt like I was one of the only people that knew and I had to figure out how to rebuild the world. I remember feeling New York had some sort of wall barrier like in the movie In Time with Justin Timberlake. I brought about 300 dollars and my camera hoping it would be enough to get through the barriers with my poetry to offer up as way to show my value.

I didn't know what I thought would happen but It felt something was about to happen.

Something bad.

I ended up returning and wether I cried on the way back or on the way there I remember crying and I remember not being able to pay for gas once I got back in town. The look on the ladies face... as if I didn't belong there. My card declining at the other gas station nearby and having my human uncles auto-shop near by I had no choice but to stop there because I was in 0 condition to drive so it's crazy to me I even got as far as I did to the highway to New York. I recall once I stopped at the mechanic shop, I had a bible with me and I called it a book about nothing when asked by the uncle what it was because It felt I was supposed to keep something secret. I didn't know about religion. I just decided to take it with me.

Apologies for this story being all over the place...

I got out of the car and sat down in the office being allowed to chill out there for a moment as I basically grew up with these people. For some reason when asked for food it's like they brought me everything on the menu and as I had fast food sitting in front of me, I had no stomach to eat it. I believe I was cold on the inside.

I recall trying to find a way to get myself killed but not... killed... but... crucified... again... I remembered or knew nothing about religion.

I was seeking car keys to a jeep and couldn't start it, then I had the idea to use my own car and drive to the airport where they would just "know" who I was and they would fly me to Israel to have me crucified. I really was ready to hurry up and die that day, not because I knew anything but because there was something important dragging me to feel like I should die. Maybe it wasn't... the important part was to me that regardless of knowing or not knowing... I was going.

I didn't get far though. As I was about to start my car, the human family grandparents showed up and I tried to talk about something I knew nothing about. One of the engineers reached in to take the cars out of the ignition and I almost ran him over. Well, kinda did with the door; and it wasn't funny. I was scared, but I wasn't scared. I was ready. I was ready and I could go... I didn't even think it was already done. I wasn't thinking.

There was an idea, if I thought it then or later... what if God, didn't get crucified and it was just a story. Someone would have to do it. That is what I thought. If there was no one that did it... and it was just a story, and it was just a lie... someone would have to fulfill the story and make magic happen.

When that had happened they pulled me out of the car and stuffed me into their mercedes and they asked me stuff and the stuff I would say would end up being used against me because now my walk began. That was his story. This–would be mine.

I couldn't word it the way I wanted. I couldn't fully express or tell anyone how being molested effected me so of course in my head all they understood is that I was messed up and broken.

The person I know as a type of watcher to keep me medicated asked what I would be watching online and of course in this next part I will always hesitate because no one understands what that happening to you does as you grow up and have no one to talk too with people who don't care about you and being forced to be locked into your room with people only talking to you for their political nonsense. Children, futanari, morphs, beast, incest... everything... and because of that I am evil... because no one dragged me out and helped me heal... I am evil because no one helped me. How am I supposed to help myself when my brain wants me to die so badly I want to go get crucified. Perhaps I said that too strongly or abrupt, It's nice to say it though... I'm not a monster... I don't want to hurt anyone and still they played me like a card in their little game to make sure I never became free.

I have healed since then but I still ponder on the thought of how to heal others if they have suffered from the same thing. It's not fair that some of us have nothing and no one even if they show themselves to be on our side... they were never really there.

I hope I don't seem like a bad person to you. I always hoped I would be able to tell me story to someone in full and I would like to talk to people in real life some day and not feel like these labels or attributed influences follow me as if flies. I like the idea that someone can look at me and not worry that I would hurt their kids or pets or whatever.

I don't want to hurt kids or pets... I hate those people that cause people to error.

I hate pedophiles and I always will.

Sometimes I feel I can't get over the fact this is how people see me or how my mind says I should see myself because of having this happen as a child and almost going to have other suffer or thinking or having an intersection with another few "family" members because of how they know how to manage people around. No matter how stupid they want to play around me. I know they know what they've done. I'll never forget because now I have to worry about this next part where I am now just venting on the idea where they would manipulate me to play unconscious martyr to assist them on touching their kids and having me blamed and blackmailed for existing. I called them out for being weird and I get blackmailed because they set me up to get close enough to their kids that I may have not fully played with them, but damn the way they lie their asses off to paint the perspective as if they weren't pulling strings and managing movement the whole way.

There is a close enough that close enough is where they put me, where it was not rape or molestation or touching bad... to where they had it to be I was innocent yet guilty but guilty no matter what. Innocence was no option.

I was taken to the psychward time after time after time and medicated to not speak the truth over and over again. I can now speak freely. They could not break their curses so they put them onto me. One of them told me later in life that they had a boy touch them in the pool and it was the same thing they forced me to do. I see where the lines meet. I see the gray areas.

I can see how to make purple.

I will be honest no matter what.

NO MATTER WHAT.

I may not be able to talk to girls to save my fucking life but I can sure tell my life story like my afterlife depends on it.

From these moments, only more came from this... false rape to a girlfriend that again, brought me just close enough to it all because they all worked together on establishing the understanding though sex came before.

Giving me the worst advice and excuses to throw myself into wards like chasing a girl for over 10 years to who would only later not even hear me speak.

I can say much about how I just wanted to TALK, I just wanted to... talk.

That is all.

I had 0 intent with anyone to hurt anyone and still every single person has some sort of edge to use against me but I'm going to win. I hate to tell you this because even if I am just a vessel and my God is somewhere then he has to be with me.

I'm not giving up.

I hope went you see me yelling, crying and talking calmly out there you know I care and that is why I am not crazy. It is not crazy to care.

I love you kiddo, I hope whatever they've put you through, you can overcome it and become better than they ever were. I hope you smile for real someday <3 Thanks for not giving up as well.

Sorry for existing.

I am not however.

I got off-track from aesthetics... I just had to get this off my chest. I want to be able to talk to everyone like family someday and not be judged because someone who understands... they will understand and not like "family" but like someone I can see they that they can see, that if they were in my position... they would've been forced into the same.

In continuation...

[the story you just heard was at 18] which I have many stories too like going through another syde of telling a girl I dated for like 2 months that I needed to marry her because... well I don't remember but all this ological stuff wether psycho-logical, physico-logical, meta-physcial-ogical... it's all connected and I started noticing. That's why I am hated.

I forgive and though my anger shows because my body is not mine alone but a vessel of God, a true evil; I can tell–the validity of what I've been taught on my journey now 27... It's real.

I must remember that I am strong.

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Originally, I was just going to tell you about the video. I suppose my heart just didn't want to hold this anymore.

I hope this helps.

Please take care of yourself.

Because if no one cares–I care.