Part 2 (see account for part 1)
Part 2
By the time I had reached 3rd grade, my fantasies we're growing by the day. Not knowing what to make of them, I would sometimes share them with my closest friend in a i'm-only-joking way. Only he didn't find it funny. No one did. Middle school was approaching, and I had never felt more alone. I had crushes on girls, talked to friends at recess, but my inner thoughts were becoming more and more bizarre. I had finally realized that not only did I want to wear dresses, I wanted to be made to wear them. I wanted to be humiliated, spat on, and made an example of. The shy kid in the back of class, at age 11, wanted to be put in a princess dress, made to wear a collar, and walked down the street by a pretty girl. Walks to the school bus were haunted by sexual desires, and I slowly began to learn my fantasies were simply not shareable. Nights were filled with my parents yelling at each other, and my visions blocking my state of mind. I would sometimes cry myself to sleep. I didn't understand myself. I didn't want to. No one would accept me. 7th grade was wrapping up. I was 14 and the girl I liked moved to Florida. My friends were busy all the time, and I was left alone. What I would do with that summer would mold who I am today, and what manipulative actions I took to get there.
By the time I had reached 3rd grade, my fantasies we're growing by the day. Not knowing what to make of them, I would sometimes share them with my closest friend in a i'm-only-joking way. Only he didn't find it funny. No one did. Middle school was approaching, and I had never felt more alone. I had crushes on girls, talked to friends at recess, but my inner thoughts were becoming more and more bizarre. I had finally realized that not only did I want to wear dresses, I wanted to be made to wear them. I wanted to be humiliated, spat on, and made an example of. The shy kid in the back of class, at age 11, wanted to be put in a princess dress, made to wear a collar, and walked down the street by a pretty girl. Walks to the school bus were haunted by sexual desires, and I slowly began to learn my fantasies were simply not shareable. Nights were filled with my parents yelling at each other, and my visions blocking my state of mind. I would sometimes cry myself to sleep. I didn't understand myself. I didn't want to. No one would accept me. 7th grade was wrapping up. I was 14 and the girl I liked moved to Florida. My friends were busy all the time, and I was left alone. What I would do with that summer would mold who I am today, and what manipulative actions I took to get there.
26-30, M
