I remember the first time I met him. I was so impressed with his confidence, talent, and his tiny fancy sports car. He walked around like he just didn't care about anything, but was also extremely shy and reserved. 

22. That’s how many years it has been since I’ve decided to actually talk about my past. I don’t actually know how to start talking about this topic, but I’ll do my best.

Growing up I’ve always felt that my duty was to help someone regardless of when, where, and how. I have come to make it my mission in life to follow a career, which would allow me to come home each and every night with the satisfaction that I had saved someone.

I suppose it’s just easier to blame your mother: My teachers wouldn’t allow me to make zoom noises when I Superman-ed to the playground, Scooby-Doo wasn’t ready to begin right as I flopped onto the couch after returning home, the like…. My mom had led me to believe that she held dominion over everything. Obviously she should have been able to control things such as these, the things that really mattered.

Street Harassment is by far the most common harassment I have experienced thus far in my life. From being hooted at, visually molested, to having to be rubbed and forced to endure erections of all sorts. It sucks. But here are snippets of my stories as I type along vigorously disseminating all my anger onto this one post.

Couldn't find a good parking spot, so parked in this lonely neighborhood. I was walking, the street was kinda empty but it was 9 am, in the morning. I see this man, big man. in his mid30s, infront of me. He starts to walk towards me with the most disgusting look on his face.I could tell he is going to grab me in any second.. 

2 am in the morning I stood in a long line to use the Bathroom at a dingy McDonalds restaurant in London. Fidgeting as I felt the pressure of my bladder, I was paying no attention to my surroundings or the people who were packed together experiencing the same situation as me. I was getting nervous as I realized that I wouldn’t be able to take it any longer and the 4 people in front of me now suddenly seemed like a thousand. Each minute ticking by felt like hours and while in that haze, I felt a hand softly caress my backside. It was a slight movement yet my senses switched from my urination problem to the situation at hand. Literally.

When I was 17, a man at a stoplight began to leer and make obscene gestures at me from his car.  I tried to ignore him, but when I looked over at my door to make sure the locks were down, he then motioned to his crotch and began to unzip his pants.  What a considerate guy, I must have looked so bored waiting at the stoplight, and he wanted to entertain me.  Thankfully, the light turned green and I sped off.  I got my windows tinted soon after.

As a six year old, playing in an apartment with your friend who's five years older than you is probably the one thing that raises your 'cool kid' status. Little did I know that it would also be a memory that I would try to erase in the years after.

you creeped up behind me as if i wouldn't notice. you always had a 'tactful' way of doing it too. you would eye me from across the room to see if i was alone.

usually, i wasn't.

this is what i can remember...

"Hey, is it ok if i take her out for ice cream?"

for a good while, that's all i looked forward to. ice cream. any five-year-old would. but little did i know that i would find myself enveloped in a mess of hands, legs and whimpering. i knew it didn't feel right but he was going to give me ice cream, eventually....right?

I've always had contemplated telling someone, anyone.

Wanting to yell it at the top of my lungs in the middle of the street, Goddamn it! But I couldn't.