They come in all shapes and sizes and I wonder why someone would enjoy touching a kid's ass at 13. I'm walking down the old neighborhood where my folks used to live. We were down there for a holiday, visit the ancestors so to speak, and we meet this one aunt. Or not an aunt but a family friend. It's always the family friends it seems because they don't have to have any accountability. They're not related. It's just a gig. They just come in and go. I'm walking down the street and the lady is behind me pinching my ass from time to time. It makes me uncomfortable, makes my cock throb. I'm at that age where I could sperm anywhere maybe. The ripe age. I don't know what makes me adorable. What makes a lady want to touch a kid's ass like that? I'm half your age lady. I could understand if the person was in high school or maybe early College but we're talking an old lady. Not an old lady close to her rocker, but an old lady according to a 13 year old. An elder. They say, respect your elders. How can you respect someone so...monstrous? They say women can't be monsters or molesters. They're gentle, they're nice. It's always the guys. They're the horrible ones. Creepy guys hiding behind bushes. It's a myth. They're everywhere in every shape and size. Thin, fat, short, tall, blonde, brunette, those fuckers are everywhere and they infest our human condition and you wonder how to get rid of such contagion.
Talking to my dad the other day. He made contact with some old relatives back in the old neighborhood. Mentioned her name. Assumed I didn't know who she was. I remembered. Oh boy did I remember. She told him she remembered me. He assumed she must've seen me as a baby. Forgotten I saw her when I was 13. Yeah, she remembers me. I remember you too you sick fuck.
Makes me wonder about justice. Makes me wonder about going up there and ripping her eyelids out, then again, you wonder how this monster came about. Maybe she got infected by a monster herself. Who's to say I'm not a monster myself? Sure I didn't do that shit, but I've done shit myself, I'm no saint. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, is the saying. I've touched a boobie when I shouldn't have. Sure it wasn't someone half my age. That would be stupid. I've looked at porn at people have my age. Am I like her? Am I like this sick mother?
Turns out there's a guy back in the old neighborhood, related to us, who "might" be a molester. That's not talked about much, but let's just say the people watch him closely. Makes me wonder about myself. Was I ever in his hands? Don't think I was, but if I was, it might explain a lot. Probably just reaching, reaching for nothing.
I do know about you though, girly. What kind of lady touches a kid's ass? I thought about going up there and ripping off her eyelids but really it all comes from the pain. That's what it all is. Pain. There's that ache. It's not a physical ache. It gets you in the heart, like a fist in the heart. It wants to rip at your eyes, make water come out of them, so you can't see. Pain makes you blind. It makes you do crazy shit to end the pain. I can see why people attempt suicide, or cut themselves just so they can feel the pain of the cut. It's not because they're sick bastards...Okay, yes they are sick bastards, but the pain of that cut is supposed to take away the pain of the emotional hurt. I get that now. I get why they do that. Couldn't before. The emotional hurt is big. I've forgotten how big it could be.
Sure I could go down there, tell her what a sick fuck she is. But why bother? Why bother talking to those demons? Why bother paying attention to evil? If you ignore evil, it'll go away. Not the same as pretending it doesn't exist. Why pay attention to evil when there's so much of good to pay attention to?
I never told MJ any of this. I didn't even really think about it until this past Friday when my dad mentioned that person. Made me think. Made me want to get on a phone and call her, but she was sleeping. Least I think she was. Couldn't bother her. She can't take away the pain. What could she say to take away the pain? It's been more than 10 years since I was 13.
Happened a long time ago. Wasn't even a big thing, though it feels big to me, feels big to a 13 year old. People don't get that and it's funny because I don't care what they think. I was having this conversation earlier with somebody: "Who cares what they think?" That's what I said. Now, I say it to myself: "Who cares what they think?" I know what I know.
Was I cute? Was I attractive at 13? I was shy and silent. Maybe easy prey? There's no easy prey, just prey. And the predators are just sick. That's all there is to it. I don't care if they were molested before. Doesn't change the fact, that stuff is still sick. Get help if you were molested before. Don't use that as an excuse to hurt other people. Sick fucks. Can't kill them. They're human.
Words in the night. Left work in a rage that night. Had to go. Had to go. Took care of my pain. Dealt with the pain. You don't deal with the pain, it deals with you, destroys you. I dealt with my pain. Talked to D, not about this. Just talked. Forgot about this crap. Forgot about this crap until now because I remembered. I told myself I had to write about it. Writing is what gives me freedom; writing is the weapon I use toward these sick fucks. Or the sick person who decided to touch my ass at 13. Don't try to hide it. It wasn't playful, it was sexual. I know that now. Difference is, you knew it but didn't want to show it.
Don't hate you though. I feel sorry for you. Feel sorry that you have to stoop to that level. Me, I don't need to do that. I write, that's what I need to do, and that's what I do.