My family is very religious, and is so anti-homosexual that it's not even funny. I let them think that I share their beliefs, so as to not be ostracized by them and my friends, but I secretly don't find anything wrong with it. I'm not gay, but I fully support the decisions others make for themselves in that regard.

Growing up I was always the odd one out. My family, are all outgoing, loud, charming, and confident. They were good at everything. You know, the overall "popular" crowd while I am the exact opposite. I was only recognized because I was the little sister or the quiet one. I did get good grades but I could never keep up with their achievements. Anyway, I was never good with conversations because as they say, I wasn't good with words.That was when I first started to write. It was a journal of my feelings. But not the dear diary type but more like a Prose in form of paper and pen. I wrote poems about how my day went, how i was feeling or just what i think about things. I didn't have anyone to talk with because my family doesn't tolerate being emotional. It's a weakness that i should overcome as they say. Until one of them found it and read it out loud during a family reunion.

They laughed and mocked me. It was traumatizing when all your emotions, were put out there to be laughed at. So i stopped. Until now, ofcourse. Nobody knows except you guys.

I'm afraid to fall in love. Everybody is a little bit I know. But for me, I'd say it's my biggest fear. I still never have, and when the chance almost came, I would shut it down immediately. I purposely avoid relationships and liking somebody. Anytime a boy said he liked he, which has only been a few, I go dead on the outside. I completely withdraw myself and desperately try to get away from him. If he so much as touches my hip, brushes my fingers, wishing to hold them tight, I tense. I go stiff. I get uncomfortable. I become terrified. I hear my mind tell me it will never happen. And I believe it. I believe it because I do not want to. Because I am far too terrified to fall in love.

I've told everyone that I'm over him. Even he believes but truth is I'm far from being over him. I am far too deep to forget the love of my life. But no one must know because to them he is the guy who toyed with my feelings. And in a way he did, yet without realizing it. So just between you and I, I want you to know that my feelings for him are stronger than ever.

Although viewing young children as sexually charged young beings is for most people uncomfortable, unnatural, and an utter nightmare one only finds in Aldous Huxley novels, early sexual development among children is not entirely uncommon.

When I was about six years old, I deciphered on my own the act of sex. Despite my small error in mistaking semen for urine, I was very aware of both the functions of the male and female body, and once I had this revelation, I became nothing but curious. I vividly remember playing "Truth or Dare" with the seven year-old boy who lived next door, and while most children dare one another to eat worms or climb to the very top of the monkey-bars, we jumped straight to the Rated-R version of the childish game and, by the end, were poking each other in the nipples, giggling.

I had my first orgasm at the age of seven. Of course I didn't understand what had happened to my body, but I certainly knew it was abnormal and wonderful; however, since I could see the abnormality of my actions, I felt embarrassed and guilty, and contained my sensual experiences to the solitude of my bedroom after-hours. This concept of privacy, like sex, seems to be just as natural.

Since I had been pleasuring myself from a young age without knowing it, the actual act of sex, itself, proved to be disappointing for the first couple of years, and it wasn't until two years after I had lost my virginity that I discovered I had been having orgasms all along.

I am not at all ashamed of my close relationship with my sexuality, yet I do not express the full extent of my experiences because I am aware of the odd nature of my early development.