My Rape Story.

Yes, I was raped from the age of 5. it was my maternal cousin. It occurred every time he came over to spend time and baby sit me. I don’t remember much details of the rape but I didn’t cry or feel violated, then. In fact, I believe after the 3rd of the 4th incident, I liked it.

The rape continued to take place even after my parents shifted house. This time it was a bigger place. He came over to stay with us. I shall name him A. A was a good looking guy. He was in the midst of waiting to enlist into national service. I was a young girl in primary school. We had plenty of spare time together. It wasn’t all about sex then. He behaved like an elderly cousin at times. We used to cycle and go fishing. He was good at sports. Badminton was a daily sport. I miss my childhood. Don’t we all? It’s an irony. People expect children who have been raped to be perpetually depressed and to grow up as sick individuals who have  no direction and motivation in life. I don’t understand how people who have never experienced any such things in life can judge. Not many people know of my rape. No one has ever suspected that my childhood was different. In fact, I feel completely normal.

Of course, I wish I was a virgin for a much longer time in life. Nothing can be more mean then to shove your prick into a young girl and rip her of innocence. But, that doesn’t mean that young girl has to keep blaming herself and hurting herself and others around her for the ugly and rude actions of perverts.

I love sex. Sometimes I feel I love it more then others. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not promiscuous. I love the pleasures of sex with partners that I am comfortable with. These are people I know and I prefer them to be my lovers.

I don’t want this blog to be full or angst and about my rape stories from my childhood. But, I definitely would share more.