Re-post with different title

I was groomed online more times than I can remember. It all happened during the worst year of my life mentally, I was 11-12. My parents were going through a weird period in their relationship, when it started my mom was living in my great aunts basement, and my dad had his own house. They were “separated” and chose not to divorce because they kept getting back together, separating again. Complicated stuff. I, myself, had been in and out of a day mental hospital program because I kept relapsing with SH.

I started it though, that’s what always gets me. I don’t know how I found out about the extremely pedophile ridden chatrooms that exist on the internet, but I did. And oh how did that excite me. I loved going on those websites, showing off my youth in my little username “Willingtween” or “Stupidtween” because I knew that meant that I would get a lot of attention. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced before, I felt so special, so loved, so appreciated. All just for being me? All just for being 11 and a little too curious? Tons of messages just trying to talk to me, saying I’m pretty or hot, it felt great.

It wasn’t long before I started sending pictures. Well, being asked to send them and complying. It gave me a rush like no other.The praise I received felt like being lifted up into the sky 100 times in a row. But with large highs, then started deep lows. It always felt good in the moment, but after, I felt shameful, dirty, for a while I was scared of my school finding out but it didn’t stop me.That feeling after kept getting worse with time.

When my mental health hit a rock bottom a month later, and continued on for months, feeling loved, special, accepted, from them, that high, felt like a light in the darkness when no one else was there. The highs were something I could depend on, every, single, time.

All I do nowadays is look back on my 11 year old self, and realize just how naive she was. How stupid it was to believe that I could do those things and get out unscathed.

A lot of the time I deny to myself that I was even a victim of anything at all. That I was just a common whore, who happened to be at a young age. It’s weird, having a story that isn’t really stereotypical. It’s shameful. I’m still trying to figure out that year of my life. I’m 13 now. I’m 13 now and I think about it every day. I miss it a lot every day too, I just wanna be special again.

Everybody treats it liked it was no big deal, that it’s “normal” for girls to do stuff like that at the age I did but they don’t understand that it wasn’t just a silly teenage hormone mistake, it was everything to me.

Sorry my punctuation could use a lot of work.(hopefully this one doesn’t get removed)