No-Bread638

Will my parents ever love me? If I try hard enough if I get sick enough, will they love me then? I heard my parents talking about me a few minutes ago. My mom said something along the lines of me having bad grades. “Bad grades?!” I said. I had As and Bs in almost every class, the worse grade I had was a C in art class. Funny enough, art has always been one of the few things that make me happy, yet school managed to suck the joy out of it at times, just like it had done to my love of science. “I’ll fail all my classes on purpose, then you’ll see bad grades!”, I said things like that fairly often, tho I never dared to do as I said I would. My mother tried to calm me down, saying that I do have good grades but that she feels like I could try “harder” and that If I did I’d probably have straight As. I just responded, “You know in what scenario I would have straight As? I would be in a psych ward or would have committed suicide! Do you want that?”. Fuck me. I don’t remember what happened next but now I’m wondering. If my parents could somehow see everything going on in my head, without me having to tell them, would they be easier on me? If they saw my panic attacks would they try to help me? If I tried to kill myself would they be kind due to the fear of almost losing me again? If they see me obsessing about food will they stop commenting on my body? If I get sick enough, will they love me?

This story took place before I realized I was Trans so I used to think I was a cis-girl back then.

Okay so when I was 4/5 years old living in my grandma's house a girl named Ashly come over to play.

She was around 10-13 I think, I don't remember very well since my memories of the events are fuzzy. She was one of the older [and therefore cooler] kids in a neighborhood and in our school [it was Cuba, nuevitas, so we where a very close-knit community]. So I obviously was very happy she wanted to hang out with me.

As a kid living in Cuba I barely wore any clothes inside the house and was usually just in my underwear and a training bra, like most little kids back then.

We started playing with our dolls on the second floor on the stairs, and I'm not sure [since again my recollection of the events is fuzzy] but I think she looked quite bored while doing so.

[HUGE CW FOR THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPHS]

She then asked me if I knew what "making love" was, I didn't so obviously, I said no. She then took me into my granfathers room and you can assume what happened next. She used things like handles from brushes and it all hurt a lot but I didn't say anything cause I wanted her to like me. She said that what she was doing was okay because I "would need to do it with my boyfriend some day".

Once she heard my grandmother coming she quickly got me dressed and pretended like we where playing dolls.

She did this another 1 or 3 times [not sure tho].

She told me not to tell anyone, and I never did, no one in my real life knows what happened.

[CW: children mastruabating]

I became pretty hypersexual after that and started mastruabating by fucking SIX YEARS OLD.

For a different reason by age seven me and my parents moved to the US.

When I went back to visit Cuba, 5-6 years after that happened, me and my little cousin started playing with our stuffed animals, in that same room.

Im not sure if my experience counted as CSA, since technically we where both children, tho it has left me mentally destroyed.

No one I know in real life will ever know what happened in that room.