Tags: coercion

butch with cigar


I'm seeing a lot of stories here, so I'm worried mine might get lost, but... oh well.

I'm Sarah, age 15. I'm young, I know, but... yeah. I was raped at age 13, although not in the movie-drama style.

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If I could have your thoughts and opinions, that would be greatly appreciated. However, if it's something along the lines of my age (i.e. you're too young to be asking about this stuff), my sexuality (anything homophobic or negatively questioning), or my age related to my sexuality (you're too young to know, negatively assuming ignorance on my part), please refrain from commenting. If you have any neutral or positive questions, comments, advice, or stories, that would be very helpful.

If anything I've written is inappropriate, just let me know.

(no subject)

My name is Andrea and I'm 17 years old... i've finally come to terms with myself and decided to ask for help, but somehow I'm not extremely comfortable with talking to anyone I know...

So here goes the into event... I guess?


Paul was my friend since the third grade; that's about 8 years now. He was like another brother to me. We'd do just about everything together. May of 2004 changed things though... Matt, asked me to write this down so I don't start to think of it as 'no big deal'. I've only ever told him the details of this incident. Everyone else got either got Paul's side of the story or no story at all...

I guess it could be triggering. It was taken directly from the notebook that I wrote it down in that night after, so it is in both present and past tense sometimes. Sorry if you see this twice and for the length...

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I can't trust guys anymore, with the exception of my boyfriend, Matthew. Everytime a guy gets near me, I tense up and get scared that he'll try the same thing. I'll pull friends in close to me emotionally without the ability to be near them comfortably. My friends(mostly guys) and I will go away and end up getting packed into a small car... I can only stare out the window because they're too close. Outside is freedom to run away and disappear, inside is just another place where I'm stuck with no place to run to.

I've taken to a few bad habits since last summer. Not smoking or drinking, I value my brain cells, but when I can't handle things, my skin tends to suffer. Usually I can write my way out of my depression, but I've had plenty of nights alone in my mind.

How can I learn to trust again?

P.S. I'm so sorry for how long this is.

My Story

From when I first started developing, around 9, to when I was 12 and finally had the courage to confront him instead of lying limp, like I was sleeping or dead, I was sexually abused.
This is my story.
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