I'm really sentimental at the moment. More so, even, than usual, shocking as that may seem. I've been thinking about my past a lot, which I haven't done lately. And about my friends now.

What is so bizarre to me is how young they were... how my brother was 11 when he molested me. Then, when I was 3, that seemed ancient. Now that seems so, so young. He was starting to smoke pot then and everything, but still... 11 seems so innocent. That's so weird to think about.

My cousin was 14... the babysitters were 16... it's so young, really, it is...

Two years ago I was going through hell, my mom had moved out and such, and I nearly ruined two people's lives... my friend Shauna, and my friend Ellie. I needed so badly to talk to someone about my past, and so I dumped on them... I was miserable and I talked so much about the abuse I went through. It changed them a lot. Remarkably, they are still my friends. But I regret every day what I did to them that summer.

And they were so innocent then, and I wasn't really. And what is innocence? People think I am innocent now but I am not. They think I am naive about sex but I am not.

And my friends now... how do we live with knowing? I know one of my friends has an eating disorder. One of them cuts. One of them smokes pot. How do I let that continue?

Also... my cousin, the one that was 14 when I was 4... he is out there somewhere, which children, with little girls.
How do I live with myself when I know what he is probably doing to those babies? How do I not hate myself for the powerlessness of it all?