purplemistus-blog

[purplemistus-blog]

2

I guess you decided to read a bit more. Kudos to you for the curiosity. 

So where do I start? I can start from when I was about 5 I guess. Or was it 4? Nope it was definitely 5. 

Growing up as a girl, we’re always told to speak up if someone made you feel uncomfortable. Especially a boy or man. You know the kind of uncomfortable to which I’m referring. 

Like I said, I went to the “good schools” in the city, so what could possibly happen? Well, lets just say after this field trip to the Zoo with my class, I knew for sure two things 

1) Zoos are loud and smelly but bring some odd sort of excitement to a group of innocent kids. 

and 2) I stopped being an innocent kid after I visited the Zoo. 

We’ll call my ‘friend’ Chloe for the purpose of this blog. Chloe and I had known each other for a year and a half by now (that’s how long we were in the same school). She was a year older, as was everyone since I started school early. I guess you could say we were friends. I mean, who isn’t friends with the entire class at 5?

We  sat next to each other on the bus after a fun filled day of animal watching and eating snacks somewhere besides our classroom. Remember, we went to school in the city- the concrete jungle- so grass and fresh air was more than enough to have us bouncing off the walls with excitement. 

Back to the bus ride, we sat next to each other and just talked about God alone knows what at that age. Then out of nowhere, Chloe kissed me. KISSED ME. We’re both girls and as far as I knew, we were straight. (Fast forward almost 20 years later, we’re both definitely straight.) But yeah, she KISSED me. I was caught off guard but I said okay I’ll ignore it even though I should tell my teacher because I was UNCOMFORTABLE.

It happened again and I stopped her this time. What was she doing? Adults do this kind of stuff. Not us. She carried it a step further. She slipped her hand up my skirt, into my panties and went to town on my ‘private areas’ as we called it at that tender age. I was so confused! But did I stop her? Of course not. I asked her what she was doing and she simply replied “shh its okay.” 

Now to understand this, you need to understand that I grew up doing as I’m told, not making any extra problems because life was pretty hard as is and as our teachers said, young ladies are to be seen, not heard. What the hell were they teaching us now that I think about it? 

Back to Chloe, she kept going and of course at that age, I have no idea why I’m wet. why it feels good and bad. why she even knows a hand goes there besides bath time. She stopped after a while of me inching away and saying ‘um um um’ because truth be told- that’s all I could have mustered up to say. 

We got back to school and she held my hand as we walked through the gates in pairs. I remember feeling unbelievably uncomfortable within myself. I felt naked. I felt like I wanted to sit in a dark room so no one could see me. I felt dirty. I felt like no matter what, nothing was the same. And I was right. 

Chloe was an asshole. And that’s the first time I’ve ever said that in all my years of life.

Stay tuned for more. 

-PMU

[purplemistus-blog]

1

Gather round boys and girls, 

Here’s yet another blog about a troubled soul on Earth. 

Mine is probably no different than the last 15 sad stories you’ve heard. But then again, ‘Friends’ re runs have been on TV since the 2000s and we all watch em and debate whether they were on a break or not every time.  (They were btw.)

Where do I begin? If I’m to be quite honest, I’ve lived a fair life. I went to the ‘good schools’, my parents aren’t druggies and I’m still alive almost a quarter century later. But somehow, I still think I’ve been dealt some outright shitty cards. 

So we’ll start from where I can remember. If you’re interested, check out the next post where this ride takes off. If not, thanks for stopping by. May your life be filled with a joy that is indescribable. 

-PMU