Well, this is my story.

Where to begin my story?

Well, negotiating with memories isnít easy. Like hell it isnít.

How to choose between those panting to be told, those still ripening, those already shriveling, and those destined to be mangled by the mind and come out pulverized?

One thing is for sure: Not writing about this would take a mental effort thatís just beyond me.

I guess I should just admit it as much as it hurt, I was sexually abused when i was a kid.

Maybe, I am wrong to write this. Just maybe, but I think I deserve to tell someone,even if that someone are total strangers that have been in the same path as I am.

Why this happened to me? I donít know. I would never know, trying to understand how a human being is capable of such things is something i cannot make sense of it. I assume only rotten and evil ones are capable of it.

I guess the beginning has to be when I was between the age of 4-6, maybe. To be honest its hard to be precise when everything from back then seems as incomplete memories.

Yeah, thatís the beginning. I was 5 years old.

Writing all this feels just like vomiting... You feel horrible before you do it and specially during the process. Just bare with me, its hard and difficult to type it all.

I remember having a Nanny, according to my parents she was a good, kind, caring, lovely young woman (remember, this is the first time i am ever speaking of it). I remember her good side more than her twisted side.

My Dad would worked from 8 am to almost 5ish pm during weekdays, my mom would leave for work around 9 and sometimes i wouldn't see her in days (she traveled for work-Airlines), when ever my dad was at work and school was over, i had a nanny/babysitter (doesn't really matter the tittle) for a few solid hrs. some days my grandmother would come and stay with us (my sister and me) and she was great, she was a sweet and the most amazing woman i have ever known. The days that i was just alone with the nanny, things happened.

Horrible things.

she made me do hideous things to her and she would do things to me, in that moment i couldn't quite understand them, the meaning of them. and this went until i was 10, when i no longer needed a nanny. and i was relief when she stopped coming or picking me up from school. and those memories were fading away, barely could remember what happened to me. but i had nightmares with it for years (even today, from time to time it happens). It seems like a film, unfinished film with just flashes of it, fast flashes passing by in front of you. How do i know what happen if i cannot fully remember it all... i might not remember it, but there is this feeling inside of me that something horrible happened to me. something i should not remember.

Since i can remember i have always been a problem child, getting in trouble in school, fights, alcohol use, i was a rebel son as well, a headache to my parents. i have to admit with shame i wet my bed until i was 14. in that year a lot change for good.

We moved to USA.

I stopped wetting my bed, I felt no harm could come, i was safe. my behavior in school went the opposite way. I was a good student, and i did teenager things as well, i made a lot of friends and why not enemies too. still from time to time those broken memories would hunted me while i sleep, but i was able to forget about them for periods of time.

I started reading, books are my safe fort.

I was also battling an inner war. Growing up catholic and discovering i was attracted to guys was a No no combination. i was a hard battle, specially to come to terms, to accept it and to be proud. when i was 17 that battle i was fighting was in the past. My family knew it, my friends... i was hidden it. and i was shown the same love and respect from my family as always.

Idk if been gay has anything to do with the fact that i was sexually abused by a female when i was younger. but i do know that sexually speaking a woman repulsed me. i find it crude, disgusting and uneasy feeling.

i have been thinking about telling my family about it, about what has happened to me when i was little. but i cant never find the right time for it. My mother is ill, my sister about to go to college and my dad, well he works as he has always done it. plus thinking of all the pain i could put them thought seems as an impossible task.

I know they would feel guilty, i know how much they have always loved me and how much they love me. our relationship hasn't been the best but we would kill for one another. I would hate to seem then hurt by all this.

I have kept this secret since i was 5, now i am 24...

I guess this is it. my story to hide is no longer hidden. i feel a bit free, a small weight has come out of my shoulders.