It was 1969, a few weeks before my 15th birthday. My home life was strange. I was always the weird kid. There was a scary incident with a stranger when I was 9 years old. I immediately told my mom and she dismissed me, said I was being silly. I was always the last to be considered about anything in the home. My parents were well educated. I’m not sure why it was ok to disregard me so completely.
I had seen this person on tv talk shows. He was in Greenwich Village and said he helped runaway teens. I don’t know what compelled me to go into NYC that day (I had been traveling into NYC by myself since I was 12.) I found him. We talked a while. There was a plan for me to go home. Then he started kissing me. I was so uninformed and inexperienced, I didn’t actually know what happened during sex. I was stunned into submission.
He was 27. He was well known in certain circles. He committed suicide in 1995.
I am 63 years old and there isn’t a day that I don’t want to die.