My Dear Molester

**NOTICE** This may be triggering for some to read.  This is written in honor of my (sadly) many friends who have been molested.  Both male and female.  I have tried to get into their heads, from what they have told me and other research I've done, and this...this is the result.

My dear (not dear) molester,
What you did to me changed my life forever.  I was only 2.  I was only 5.  I was only 6.  I was only 7.   I was only 12. I had that glow of innocence in my eyes up until that moment when...you touched me...you showed me your genitals...you touched my genitals...you watched me bathe.
I never realized how terrible your actions were until I was older...what you did scared me right from the start...I was so confused....
I've never understood your actions, Daddy...you're supposed to protect your little girl from men like you.  I never understood why you did it, Dad...I'm your son...you're supposed to be my role model.  I don't know why you did it...you were my best friend...we were the same age.  Were you used too?  Big brother?  I know you were hurt...but why hurt me?  Uncles aren't supposed to do that....
Now, I was the lucky one.  Momma caught you.  But I wasn't so lucky...you still come home for Thanksgiving.  I still see your face every day, but I think I've forgiven you.  You're gone, you've served your time...but I fear the day that I might see your face again.
I remember how you touched me, and where...but what happened before, after, and in the middle...I don't remember....  Just bits and pieces here and there.  After all, you had me in your grasp just a few months...then were gone.  But not me...I lived with you until I was twelve.  Every day, a pawn in your grasp.
You've made me feel dirty.  You've made me feel used.  You've made me feel emasculated...guys can't get raped or molested.  But yet...I was.  You've broken my spirit and damaged my soul...you have crushed my heart and being.  My days are filled with a one word question...one word alone...that word is "why".
I'd like to say that I'm responsible for my actions...but yours have ushered the way for mine.  The way I used my girlfriend, because that's how you've taught me love.  To love her means to dominate, which is the only way I can regain my masculinity.  Me?  I didn't understand my actions, or why I felt this way.  I if I had, I never would have let him use me that way.  I never would have tried to touch my cousin.  I never would have started pornography.
But something I can't help is my emotions and the side effects that come.  Depressed.  Anxious.  I need control...I need someone to be in control.  I cringe when my father tries to hug...because of you.  When my husband tries to kiss my lips, I involuntarily duck my head.  I can't stand intimacy, even in marriage....
I've had more than one molester.  Apparently that's common.  First you, then you, and you, and you.  Together you've crushed my spirit.  I've learned that no is just a word, and there is no weight behind it.  No I would not like that there.  Never mind, it's already there.  No, I wouldn't like a kiss.  Never mind, you missed my words.  No please, no, don't touch me there.  I guess that my no means nothing now.
It's hard to explain why what you've done has hurt me so and still today.  It's kind of hard to explain to someone who has never felt this way that the reason why I still hurt now is because what you've done has broken something like a bone, but instead of being set the way it should, it's healed crooked, and will always ache.
But how have I dealt with what you've done?  My arm is ribbons...I've turned to drugs...I've turned to Jesus...I have support...oh look, I've got an STD, because again, I thought that that guy loved me.  Girl after girl I molest in my grasp, the way you used me when I was young.  But what about me?  I'm a ghost.  I'm dead.  I couldn't handle it, and I didn't live.
So...my dear (not dear) molester...I just wanted you to see...that the things you've done have affected me, more than we either could have seen...and I don't know if you realized what your actions would bring, but I know I made excuses for you.  I know I tried to say you didn't know, I know I tried to say, "Well, it happened to them too."  I have excuses on why it wasn't that bad, and excuses to why it "doesn't hurt", but all of that's a lie.
It hurts.  It stings.  It burns.  I AM PAIN.  Perhaps I'll heal, perhaps I won't...I just wanted you to know...when you used me the way you did, our lives entwined and your actions have changed my life today....
Sincerely,
Your Victim A survivor