I was looking back through some of my older posts because I saw a typo in one of my titles. As I briefly scanned through what I had written, I could see the change in my emotions anywhere from upset, angry, depressed, or happy. Depending on what the emotion was, it set the content for the story. I could write a very technical blog on sexual abuse, full of facts and figures, but I have decided to write from the heart and not the head. There is little passion when you write from the head.
I saw one story that I wrote talking about the love/hate relationship I had with Mr. P. I guess it is hard to think there was any love at one time, but there was. The love was shattered when Paul entered the relationship. Last year my brother (the former wild child) sent me an email. In it he said from reading my blog that I had an attachment to Mr. P. when I was 12. I guess it does make it more painful when something severs that attachment to another.
I shared some information with a new acquaintance in an email the other day. I told him that there are multiple stories in my blog. The dominant story describes the sexual abuse I experienced since that is how I view it because Mr. P. brought his friend Paul in who did many things to me without my consenting to it. Because of that I have suffered for 38+ years of deep emotional pain. There is another story woven into the fabric of the blog which is a love story of sorts. A coming of age story of a 12 year old paperboy befriended by an older man. He was slowly guided into what appeared to be a loving and caring relationship that was sexual. Another man was brought into the love story who wasn't very kind and caring. The boy's heart was literally broken and eventually he had to run away from the things being done to him, not out of shame, but out of fear. We all want love stories to have a happy ending, I'm sure you do. What happened to me didn't end in, "and he lived happily ever after."
I am not sure what recourse there is for the boy who has been harmed in a Man-Boy Love relationship. I guess he just becomes collateral damage and is thrown out on the curb for trash pickup. Of course, I am speaking about myself as I was a boy who was harmed. I think Mr. P. was given a chance to do something to make right what he had done wrong when I saw him in the grocery store that one day after I had left him. He chose to do nothing but try and get me back into something I fled from out of fear that the abuse was going to only get worse and worse.
I recently added some words to my picture and a caption below it in case you can't read the small print in the picture. Ever since I left Mr. P., I often ask myself the question, "Can I ever trust anybody to love me again?"