Much like you, I wasn’t just living through these experiences, I was being used by them. When I say, “I was being used by them”, I know that experiences aren't a life force and therefore can't technically use you. What I mean is that I began to allow these experiences to shape me. These experiences shaped who I became, what I thought, how I acted, how I reacted and the circle of people that I grew to trust.

In the beginning I certainly didn’t think much about these situations, but at some point the tide turned from finding the fault in others actions to finding the fault within myself. This is a natural side effect of the human condition because our brains are set up to recognize patterns. We’re so good at catching patterns in fact that it’s why so many of us can find hidden pictures inside an illusion book. You know the ones, where it looks like a random assortment of colors and shapes, but if you put your nose right up to the center of the image and then slowly pull your face away, you realize that you were really looking at a flower or a face all along.

Every interaction that I had with others was helping me to build my inner voice. Again, you know the one that sounds just like you, and never really seems to have anything nice to say. The one that keeps you up at night going through to-do lists for tomorrow. The one that tells you that you probably shouldn’t wear that top today because you’re looking a little bloated. The one that replays conversations looking for hidden meaning in every piece of dialogue, until you’re so anxious that you start to just avoid that co-worker, sibling or parent altogether. Yeah, you know the one I’m talking about. That voice that runs our lives, but never seems to contribute positively to a conversation. That voice of yours has center stage and most of the time, it's not there to say anything kind.

Ever since I can remember my voice has had nothing nice to say about me. It started pretty early in my life, so I can’t recall the first time that it whispered to me, but I remember what it said, “It’s all your fault, you know? Who could ever love you?” From then on it was my life’s mission to please this voice, but as you know all too well that voice is never satisfied. Just about the only time that voice shuts up is in moments of true peace, happiness or contentment. Things that I’d begun to slowly shut out of my life in exchange for temporary relief.

It started with obsessive exercising in junior high. I was tubby, not fat, but not thin and it would say things like, “You know, if Sebastian liked you then maybe someone could actually love you. But you know that’s never going to happen because you’re disgusting. The reason boys don’t like you is because you’re fat. The reason you’re unhappy is that you’re fat.” Little did I know the reason I was so unhappy was the voice. So I started running. I ran three miles every day, sometimes more than that if the voice was too relentless. I’d eat less and less until I'd pass out or black out. I never realized it was because I was starving my brain of nutrients. To me, it was just the price I’d pay to be loved by someone else. It was the price I’d pay to love myself, but the fare was too high and I never felt loved or fulfilled.

Instead, the pay off was that I weighed 110 pounds at my lightest and while no one really loved me, lots of people wanted me. I figured that was the same thing, right? It wasn’t and I knew it, but that didn’t stop me from trying to supplement it for the real thing.

The year before I’d lost all of the weight, I had a crush on a 9th grader named Christian. We were both in choir together (I know, I never said I was cool) and he told me that we could date. I'm sure he hung out with me out of pity. Or maybe he liked that I had my own taste in music, or that I was funny. Who even knows? He gave me his number and I never called until I reached 110 pounds. I called and when he answered I told him that I lost all of this weight for him.

He responded in the saddest voice I've ever heard, “Don’t say that. You didn’t need to lose weight for anyone. You were fine just the way you were.”

In that moment, I knew that he didn’t understand. I really did need to lose all that weight! I had to because if I hadn’t I would remain unlovable. I’d forever remain the hideous troll that my inner voice had told me I was. Imagine my disappointment and embarassment at the realization that he didn’t love me when I was fat, and he certainly didn’t love me now that I was thin. Because surprise, he never liked me to begin with. Another reinforcement that this was who I was and whether I was tall or short, thin or fat, strong or weak, I would remain as unlovable as I was before. The common denominator was always me. I was the one that wasn't worthy, not some abstract thing I could fix.

That’s okay, I thought. Maybe Sebastian will think I’m beautiful now… Maybe we can finally make this thing happen. I went to school and I waited for months for Sebastian to say something, anything, but he wasn’t interested either. So I went on my merry way, about my life and figured something else would come along; even though it hurt me deeply to know that all of my hard work and suffering didn’t seem to mean much to anyone else.

It wasn’t until one night at my friend Maybelle’s house that I finally experienced what I thought was a true connection. Maybelle’s mother was out of town, so she invited the boys over sans Sebastian who now had a girlfriend. We ordered pizza, smoked a bowl outside, watched some MTV, listened to music and chatted into the night.

At some point in the evening we turned off all of the lights and played hide and go seek in the dark. If that isn’t an excuse to flirt with someone, I’m not sure what is. I was hiding in the closet when Joseph opened the door and slammed right into me. We were so close I could feel his breath on my lips. I was about to say, “Hey, you can’t fit in here.” When he pressed his pointer finger against my mouth, “Shhh! I hear someone coming.” We stood pressed up against each other for a brief moment, but it felt like an eternity. I heard footsteps outside the door, and one of the bedroom doors in the den swung open. Two people were found and they quickly headed up to the safe room in the upstairs living room. James and I breathed a sigh of relief for our safety.

I can’t remember our exact conversation but I remember being in the downstairs closet in the dark with him for anywhere from what felt like 10-20 minutes. We made each other laugh and he complimented me once or twice. I knew that he had a girlfriend, but he’d talked about how he was really only interested in her because he was hoping she'd sleep with him. She wasn’t really funny or interesting, and so their relationship seemed fairly close to doomed.

Eventually we were ousted or the game ended, I can’t remember which. We all headed outside for a bit and bounced around in the dark on the trampoline, enjoying our high. Once it was time to go to bed, I specifically stayed out in the den because I knew Joseph was sleeping out there. He had a crush on our friend Bethany and they slept close by one another.

In the middle of the night, I heard Joseph ask if anyone was awake. Sensing this was an opportunity to make a move, I piped up, “

Yeah, I’m still awake.”

The room was silent for a minute.

“Roslyn, is that you?”

“Yep, can’t seem to sleep.”

I could sleep but I didn’t want to. This was my moment, the moment where I would woo Joseph with my wit and charm. The moment where I could confirm that I was indeed worthy of being loved. It didn’t matter to me that somewhere some girl would be horrified to know that her boyfriend didn’t really love her. It didn’t matter to me that this would change my relationship with this person from that moment on. It also didn’t seem to matter that this person I’d known and respected had no allegiance to his girlfriend. I wasn’t thinking of the future. For once in my life I was in that moment. Not skipping ahead to the future or looking into the past for advice. I was there and I wanted someone to hold me and tell me that everything was fine. I was going to do what I had to do, or as they say nowadays, "You do you boo."

I heard a shuffling in the darkness, which was clearly Joseph propping himself onto his side,

“Hey, have you ever given a blow job?”

I was a little taken aback. Well then we’re getting straight to the point. Okay, cool. Not the romantic evening I had planned for myself but maybe this was just a test. Maybe I’ll see what I can bargain this down to. I’d never seen or touched a penis, let alone put one in my mouth. Seems a little demeaning, but we’ll see how this goes.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Want to?”

“Not particularly.”

I could almost hear the gears in Joseph’s head turning from half the room away.

“What about a hand job?”

“No, I’ve never given a hand job to anyone.”

“Do you want to?” he asked a little exasperated, as if I wasn't getting where he was going.

I could tell that the bargaining phase of this conversation was over by the tone in his voice.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Cool! Let’s go upstairs. I wouldn’t want to wake anyone up down here.”

Looking back, I'm sort of surprised that he was so eager considering I didn't seem terribly interested.

I remember being nervous and excited all at the same time. Joseph mounted the half-stair case up to the living room and then took a sharp left up the staircase and flipped on the light in Maybelle’s mother’s room. I remember thinking about how calm and confident Joseph seemed considering he didn’t live here. So self-assured of where everything was and that he belonged here in this moment.

I also remember thinking, please God turn this light off. It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to touch your penis, but I’m going to have to look at it too? Great… The things a girl will do to be loved, am I right? He sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him as if I were a dog. Hop up on the bed, girl! That’s a good girl! The whole thing felt like a transaction rather than an impromptu moment of passion; likely because it was premeditated and you could've inserted any one of us girls into this fantasy.

I sat down next to Joseph and the uncomfortable questions started.

“Do you want to just masturbate?”

Awkward silence and possibly a face of horror aimed Jospeh's’ way.

He starts over, obviously catching the uncomfortable vibe I was throwing out in all directions, “I mean, maybe you can masturbate and I can just watch?”

It started to dawn on me that he was trying to find a way to get what he wanted but not have to commit to anything where he could be liable if shit went south. He tried another approach,

“Or maybe we could just both masturbate separately with the lights on obviously.”

“Well, I thought you were looking forward to a hand job, and it’ll be good practice.” I said, attempting to sound like I was super cool with everything that was happening here.

I was trying so hard to be cool with this. I definitely didn’t want to admit that I secretly hoping he’d be so impressed by my wit, charm and amazing dick handling skills that he’d choose to fall in love with me. Mostly because that sounds crazy, yeah I totally hear it now, but back then I was pretty lost. I was 16 years old and I should’ve known that just because someone wants you to fondle their bits doesn’t mean they have any intentions of loving you for who you are. I just really needed someone to value me, I didn't care how they valued me though. I needed someone to go to sleep and wake up thinking about me, just one person in the world. That's all I wanted and it seemed like a simple ask.

“Yeah, if you’re cool with that?”

“Sure.” I said. Joseph had to have known that something was wrong. Who agrees to give their first hand job so nonchalantly?

Alright, before we proceed, I think I should give you fair warning that this encounter doesn't end well. Or it ends exactly how you'd expect it to.

Joseph walks over and turns off the lights; thank God. I’m not sure if he knew I was beyond uncomfortable or didn’t want me to see his penis. I’m thinking it was probably the latter, but that's okay because I didn't want to see his penis. I could hear him take his pants off and the felt him lay on the covers to my right side. Again, Joseph was doing me a solid because to this day I can’t give a handy with my left hand. What can I say I'm dominant handed? I laid down beside him and felt my way to his very erect penis.

When I first grabbed it I remember thinking, “Wow, you’re doing this! We’re doing this!” I didn’t really know what to do with it at first, so there was an awkward moment of silence.

“You know you’re supposed to move your hand, right?”

“Oh yeah, I know that.” I said, snapping out of my thoughts and back to reality.

I did my best, but things weren't great. I was touching what I now know to be an uncircumcised penis in my best friends mother’s bed. It was dry and uncomfortable. At one point he asked me to spit on my hand, which was not effective because being high gave me intense cottonmouth. All of the girls I knew that said they’d had sex, or touched a penis, and my sister were liars! They used to say, “Oh don’t worry, you’ll know what to do.” Wink wink, nudge nudge. No, no I did not. I never even watched porn, I felt like I should've studied a manual before this.

Sensing it wasn’t going very well, I squeaked out an, “I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this.”

Which I see now was probably a huge downer. Joseph just got up and said, “Don’t worry about it, I’m just going to use the bathroom really quick.”

He grabbed a bottle of Vasoline brand body lotion from Maybelle’s mom’s bedside table and headed into the bathroom. As an adult I understand that he clearly went into the bathroom to finish the job himself, but as a kid I just thought maybe we’re done with that for now. Cool, we can just get to the part where he’s interested in me as a person now.

Joseph came back in and lied down next to me. We both stared up at the ceiling for a minute. I was thinking about how all I wanted to do was kiss him and I’m sure he was thinking, “Man, how do I get out of this very uncomfortable situation quickly and quietly.” He broke the silence,

“Is there anything you want me to do to you? Do you want me to finger you? Maybe I can eat you out?”

Man, what is it with men wanting to eat me outt? I mean, cool but why is it always your go-to move? Flashbacks of my encounter with Sebastian made me quickly decline. What if fingering led to sex? I couldn't even handle a handy. I mean if that didn't go very well, sex probably wasn't a good choice here.

“No, I’m okay. …Actually…” I know what you’re thinking, good on you Roslyn go get yours, right? Wrong. Here’s what I did instead, “Can I just kiss you?”

Awkward silenece...

“Sure.”

Joseph doesn’t make a move, instead he's just laying there clearly regretting this decision. So I climb on top of him and we start making out. This is probably how we should’ve started our adventure. The first few kisses are great, until he puts his hand up my shirt and on my bra. Oh no! Here comes that damn voice! “He’s going to want to unhook your bra. Wow, why didn’t you wear your newest one? This one makes you look like a whore, and you’re too fat for it. He’s definitely not into you. I mean, how could he be? This has gone horribly.”

Distracted by my own inner voice, I lose focus and rhythm. Our teeth knock against each other and the moment we come up for air he says,

“I think I’m going to go to bed.”

Man, I didn’t even get any under bra action, but I get it. This was an awful experience for both parties and it's probably best that it end here.

“Okay, I understand. Thanks.”

Enter the voice once again, “Thanks? What the hell is wrong with you? Who says thanks? If it wasn’t awkward before it sure is now.”

I expect Jospeh to roll over and fall asleep beside me, but he doesn’t. Instead he gets up, goes to the master bathroom a second time for an excessive period of time. When he walks back out I pretend to be asleep and wait for him to curl up next to me. Instead, he walks back downstairs and falls asleep next to Bethany, the girl he has a crush on. I lay there for about thirty to forty-five minutes. Enough time to for James to have safely fallen back to sleep and then I walk back downstairs and fall asleep on the couch.

Why is that I'm never anyone's first choice? Hell, not even their second choice? Why am I good enough for a handy (albeit an awful one, sorry Joseph) but not good enough for you to want to fall asleep next to? In that moment, I knew for sure that I was nothing and no one. I could never be the person that someone thought about every second of every day. I just wasn't that type of girl.

As you probably know now, I’ve always had a strict rule in my life not to cry in front of anyone. It started the first time my sister attempted suicide. We were on the way home in the car, and I remember my mother silently letting the tears roll down her face. No sobbing, just a quiet sadness. I'd be strong like our mother and father. No one would see me cry. Not even this stupid boy that I clearly let take advantage of me. I would cry a few good tears and then I would suck it up and move on. After I felt like the coast was clear, I crept back downstairs and lay back down on the couch.

In the morning, once the boys had gone, I'd recount the experience to my friend Maybelle and Bethany in the morning. They’d be excited for me and they used the info to build a story about how we clearly belonged together because he clearly wasn’t happy with his girlfriend. I remember Maybelle saying,

“Well he wouldn’t have asked you to go upstairs with him if he didn’t like you?”

Either these girls were the most naïve people in the world, or they were desperately trying to make me feel better. We were all just hoping for someone to throw us scraps of their love and willing to accept it as the real thing because we were so alone. Alone in a sea of people.

Much like the other encounters I’ve had, I never shared this information with my family. They already had so much going on and they didn’t really care about what was going on in my life anyways. How could they? Ophelia was a constant focal point in our life. They didn’t have time for me, so why bother sharing this hurt with them. We’d all already had enough hurt for a lifetime. No, I'd suffer this sadness in silence for the greater good. Just like I always did because this was who I had chosen to become.

I couldn’t see it then but this was the last straw for me. The voice in my head had won. My parents didn’t love me, Ophelia could never love me, Sebastian would never love me, and now neither would Joseph. Anyone else that came into my life in an attempt to show me their love had no chance of surviving. From then on, I’d made a choice that no one else could make their way in.

As Pink Floyd would say, “All and all you’re just another brick in the wall.” I had begun building a wall from the ripe age of 3 years old and I would finish setting the bricks and mortar for a fortress on this day. Here I could be safe. Here I wouldn’t have to be disappointed by other people’s inadequacies. Here and only here could I be me. I would also come to realize as Pink Floyd did that this was a lonely way to live your life because walls not only keep people out… they also keep up us in.