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diary of an aging girl #1
I grew up with this overwhelming shadow of discreetness, I stayed still in the uncomfortable seats of my school waiting for my peers to turn and acknowledge me.
In being discreet and timid, my need to feel more than a child, more than a girl hoping for a better future came to fruition. I think about it now and how desperate of a fourteen year old I was, desperate to be understood and taken care of. To talk with someone who understood my feelings more than I did, who had already surpassed the years of longing and had become their own person.
What transpired until I became an adult was something sinister and addictive. I can read back through my old journals and see this girl who knew what she wanted even in the haze of desperation, even when she knew it was wrong.
But I can remember the intricate ways in which these men who were aware of my age understood this brutal need and took my desperation as a total yes into corrupting something that should have been mine for many years to come. It had happened too fast and for too long, when my mind was trying to come to terms with an identity brewing.
I like to think I have put past those memories, especially after coming out as a lesbian. I still have this need to be wanted and it distorts with my hypersexual tendencies. It’s not a good thing and framing my younger self as desperate is not ideal since I’m sure at the time it was just a need to feel desired.
-doaag xx