I've never shared this so if this reads in a clunky, disjointed way then all apologies.

I was invited to a house by this guy, he seemed ok but I was only 13 years old and I knew no better. He said he had beer and a woman was gonna be there. I had never even kissed a person, the idea of a woman being present held no sexual value. Anyway, what happened next fucks me up because of how easily I dismiss the sexual abuse as a non-event and that's bullshit. That abuse surely impacted my life and the wreckage still haunts me.

The man watched while a woman as old as my mom did what she wanted to me. I fucking hate this experience and I wish to God I could somehow fucking extricate from my consciousness but I cannot. I've jabbed my arms with so many needles and as a result I've contracted MRSA, staph, and other infections that nearly cost me significant tissue loss in my arm. So many hospitalizations. All in an effort to kill that shame. I no longer do this to myself, I no longer self-medicate but the shame still lingers.

If I had a kid (I do not, thank God) and if they were victimized in this way? They'd have to bury me under the prison. Yet when I consider the abuse and its impact, I minimize it to no end. I have so much shame wrapped up in this singular event, so unreal. Thankfully, this was not a protracted occurrence.

In closing, what kills me is that I could never take that from a kid. My proclivities, while not vanilla, are nothing like what I had experienced. What the fuck is wrong with people?

I feel you OP and I know that pain.