Dirty Little Secret

I’ve always known the source of my guilt and what causes the episodes of self loathing. I’ve hinted at it, but never admitted it, not even to myself.
I’ve confessed that I was a willing victim, that I went to great lengths to put myself in harms way.
But I’ve implied and wishfully thought that as soon as the sex abuse started that I only felt shame and disgust.
Yet a persistent memory has made itself heard. I remember feeling insanely jealous when the teacher abused another boy. So I kind of threw myself at him, to be his favourite.
Does this mean I wanted sex as a 10 year old?
No, I wanted affection. I didn’t enjoy the sex, but it was the next best thing to love. And in an odd way, though humiliated, it made me feel powerful.
I believe this is what has confused me and still causes the guilt.


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