08/23/00 - 03:21 AM

I know there are some people that read this diary that don't like me as a person and probably only come here to laugh. Don't come here. I don't want you here. You know who you are. I know who you are. I keep track of my visitors for a reason. Just leave this diary alone. You can have all of the other ones.

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So this is the second part, the second issue where I start to explain myself I suppose.

Bigboy and I have started to exchange lengthy emails. He is forcing himself deeper, throwing himself open even wider.

I�m starting to peek out the windows.

I don�t remember the first time. I already said that didn�t I? I can�t fucking remember a thing about it. How old was I? Seven? Eight? Nine? I think nine.

I remember how as kid they gave us little lectures about if someone touched you wrong you were supposed to tell an adult. I had a little coloring book that went into descriptions on what the good touches were and how to separate them from the bad ones.

Grandmas gave good touches. Grandpas did too. And of course Moms were good.

And Fathers.

Even before it all happened I studied my little book, trying to figure out what the hell it was talking about. Wondering what exactly a bad touch was. Who had been touched badly? I had come to the conclusion that bad touching was something only strangers did. I was obsessed with that stupid book; I read it over and over again. It was like I knew before it ever started that it was coming. How can I remember that book so clearly?

Why is what came after it so hazy?

Nine I think.

It started with the checking. To make sure I was still �intact.� At nine years old. Locked bathroom doors. I don�t know where my Mom and my brother were. Not at home, I think. I remember once Mom had taken my brother to the dentist. Sometimes my brother WAS home. I remember hearing him outside the bathroom door; he didn�t know what was going on. He just knew it was wrong. At seven years old.

It always started out in the fucking bathroom. But I can�t remember what happened. I can�t remember the order of it. I have parts and pieces, like a movie preview. I can�t put it together. I believe it started gradually. Getting worse and worse with every incident. I see myself in a bathtub; he�s looming over me giving me a bath but he lingers to long between my legs. I�m fucking nine. I hear him telling me to take my clothes off. But I don�t remember the first time. I don�t remember the severity. I know that I was confused. Was this the type of wrong touching that everyone seemed to talk about? I didn�t know.

Nine years old.

I don�t want to write any more of this tonight.