It all started when I was 5 years old. You don’t know f*** all when you’re 5 years old. It all started with my brother. He’s 5 years older than me. I knew something didn’t feel right.. I tried to get away but he kept pulling me back, he forced me to put my mouth around his d***. And that wasn’t the first time. One year later my cousin forced and heald my head so I couldn’t move.. he started to kiss me and touch me and that went on for 3 years. You would think that I would tell someone, but I was scared. Scared of the consequences. I’m 26 now and still live with these haunting memories of my family. I’m too much of a little b**** to off myself and the thoughts of doing it just keep getting stronger everyday. I don’t think I’ll make it to 30. I’m getting weaker and weaker by the second and the drugs keep getting stronger and stronger. I f****** hate myself. I just want to f****** die.