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Sometimes, When it is late at night, You claw your way back into my mind. I am twenty three now, almost the age you were, when you sought me out. Even though i’d only just turned thirteen. I’m twenty three now, and I could never imagine myself talking to a child as young as I was, in the ways you did. 

Late night messages turned to you introducing me to sexting, and sex in general, and felt like secrets that I thought were as special as you told me I was. Was I, Special? Or was I just a young girl, intertwined within the webs of what you created, no matter the pain and confusion you caused me.

 

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