Shame

Pubescent girls affect me in ways I wish they didn’t. Here are some thoughts about all that.

I sat in the dark for hours, waiting for a woman to make me come to life again. Then I’d scurry home and pretend I’d never been there.

I was ashamed of the wrong things, and I lied without knowing I was lying.

I was raised in shame, and lived most of my life there. I’m finding my way out, slowly.

In which I decide that maybe, just maybe, taking non-consensual photos of people might be problematic. Thanks to the thoughtful comments of readers of this blog.

In which I confess to having taken creep shots, and wonder about them – their lure, and the creepiness of them.