Hi, I'm Emma. I've got a massive confession for you.

I've decided to tell you about myself bc not many people know. I was born out of my then-drug-addicted, hopeless, piece-of-shit mom's rape. She was 17. My grandparents raised me in a very small town. Conservative Christians, wonderful people. I was raised loving my mother, even as she was. ((She is now been clean and sober and HAPPY for over 7 years. She's married and has my little brother with my "step dad")) But that's not my point here. I was raised in a world separate from my age group. I grew up with adults, doing adult things. Living with an addict mother taught me it was okay to be fake and obnoxious and make poor decisions. At my grandparents' house, I was raised to love music and books and nature and my family and my God. I was a great Christian, but who cares? I've been living too many lives, my whole existence on this planet. Years passed, I grew up, became depressed. I was raised in a subtley homophobic and racist small town, though I didn't know it bc I was so young. Well after a few years, we moved to another state. I was about nine years old. When I was around seven years old, I had a best friend, N, who was 10. We lived in a run down apartment complex in the middle of the "hood" part of the projects. People sold cocaine and heroin down the street. N's mom was a whore for money and her dad was a pedo karate instructor. N was a goddess, so beautiful. Keep in mind that I *was* female. ((Note: I'm actually genderfluid but I didn't even know what gay was back then so I wrote my odd feelings off as just craziness)). Anyways, I had invited her and the three guys we were best friends with to come eat dinner and hangout. Well, we ended up playing truth or dare, and it turned sexual. N and Z, the eldest of the brothers, our besties, ended up fucking on my bed while the other two guys and I looked on. I was in love with N, but when they were done fucking, I was dared to kiss the eldest, Z, and let him touch me. I accepted. Later that night, I cried myself to sleep. Skip to the two and a half years later, moving to the new state. I was a painfully awkward, ugly, annoying and sexual 10 year old. I was so gay it wasn't even healthy. ((I'm actually pansexual lol)) I hated everyone. though my family loved me, I treated them like shit and was depressed beyond control. I couldn't handle how different I felt, how ugly and abnormal. I had friends, but I fell hopelessly in love with T, my first friend from my new home. He was such a great person. But fourth graders don't handle emotion well, and to this day we are still awkwardly friends ish. I still have a place reserved for him in my heart. A year or two passed, full of me hiding myself deep inside a knot of "happiness". I'd fake fake fake my way through the day, get made fun of and bullied and silently sink further into depression. I never cut myself, though tbh it was only because I was scared of more pain and didnt want to let anyone see my pathetic scars. I knew there had to be an easier way to live so I just bottled everything up and put on a façade. I felt wasted and dead. I started to act out, forcing myself to try to be cooler and prettier and more likable, while inside I was becoming more and more numb. I flirted recklessly, and let boys do things to me. This type of sexual stuff was something I had done since that day in my bedroom with N and the brothers. I felt used and thrown away, which was an accurate feeling to have. Sooner or later, I discovered the allure of the female, and I was hooked. Being unknowingly genderfluid, I would masturbate to lesbian porn at 1:30 in the afternoon on my grandmother's desktop computer. While I masturbated in a female body, I felt male. I felt like I was a boy, and this terrified me. I was addicted to touching myself, addicted to it but disgusted by my body. I refused to look at myself because I felt so damn ugly, all the time, no matter what. I met a girl. She and I became best friends who did everything together, and I mean everything. I practically lived at her house during summer. Its safe to say that I loved her more than anyone I've ever loved. She was my everything. Both of us were in ultra-Christian families, but I managed to get her to fuck me. She was my first meaningful sexual encounter. A few months later, she moves away, and I have never seen her in person again. This is a repeating pattern. I meet someone, fall in love, they leave me. Its like a really shitty rom-com without the comedy. I start 6th grade, determined to become popular. Instead, I'm failing classes, and crying in bathroom stalls. I befriend my bus driver, and she tells me about her life. It was a source of happiness, true happiness in my life. skip to 8th grade. Dated a guy, caused drama, bored and miserable. Meets best friend, finds new happiness, but is starting to act out again. Flirts with anything that moves. So hungry for sex, its not even funny. Skip skip skip, ninth grade. The year of insanity. Mum's married, I'm sort of happy, yay. I go to school on day 1 thinking, "Be a good girl, you are popular enough." Well, I fuck up. Get in with the wrong crowd. start to drink again, smoke weed, cry and write and fuck. I'm a mess. Then, i meet the Guy, the one I lose it all over. He is sexual and the definition of sex-obsessed druggie, but I didn't care. I ruined that year. I did and said things that shouldn't have been said and done. My poor parents found out and I was screwed, not to mention the worthlessness I felt, the despair and deep hatred of my stepfather. I slipped into the deep end, fantasized about hurting him. ((I love him very much, but at the time I was certifiably off my rocker)) This year, it's 10th grade and I'm actually popular and wanted and attractive but I'm blind to who I am. I wasted the whole first semester, all on shitty friends who didn't really care about me. I seduced guys and still felt hideous. But all of it came crashing down when mom and dad stopped me again. I am forever grateful. I was on a path that could only lead to destruction. I still love sex and am quite partial to mead and red wine, but I am more in control. In less than one year, I learned more things about myself than the other 14 and a half years of my life. I'm always going to have scars, but I have mostly moved on. I just wish it were easy, but it never will be. That's why I am always here for those who need me. I needed someone, and nobody was there. I don't want that to happen to anyone else.