I can't help thinking back to when I was raped. They may as well just fucking kill kids if they're going to abuse them. No more than two fucking times and I can't get over if - Twenty- years ago this October. Twenty fucking years. I mean, that guy sure did pull a number on me. Anyhow I waas sitting around and I got to thinking some crazy thoughts. They are crazy too. In the movie twin Peaks : Fire Walk With Me. This girl dies after a horrible life and is brought to this parallel creepy other world - a few bits of furniture, a checkered floor, and red velvet walls. Then this girl sees an angel of herself disappear and she's left alone. There's two worlds. The normal world and then the other world. The dark world where things happen to people, and where monsters roam. Sometimes you enter that world by doing bad things, other times. you get pulled in for the pettiest of reasons. Anyhow, I got to thinking about little James. And I started crying because I'm terrified that somewhere the good me, the little six year old James is trapped and suffering the same trauma over and over again. That little me, was abandoned by me - that I'm responsible for his continuing suffering. And that I'm a twisted copy of that little boy, and I left him behind without protecting him. The reason I'm depressed and sufering is because I left that little boy behind. And I didn't help him. And now there's no good in me because "me" is the thing taht escaped from the dark world. I'm so afraid for that little boy in there. I can't have oral sex performed on me. I just feel it all again - being separated from the other boys, being told to lay on a table, told to lay back as my pants are taken down, and then the horrible feeling of having all my genitals consumed....That's gross sorry...but I just want you to know that it is that sensation that I remember. Each time. And when it happens I feel small again, I feel fear again, and being powerless. But I feel it's so real and present. And the monster is there again and the world outside ceases to be, and there's only him huting me. In all the universe there is only that. And I'm alone. Now who is James Lyons twenty years later? A shell of a person. A walking blackhole who's only writing this because he couldn't kill himself off. I am a standing product of the monster. I got out of that room, but Jamie , as he was called, didn't. And I can't shake the feeling that if I died than six year old Jamie would be freed from his hell. Isn't that nuts? What a weird thing to feel guilty for. Does anyone else feel this way?