Dear God,

I'm trying desperately to hold onto the thought that I'm a good boy and yet I can't get around this feeling of having been sexually abused. I can't stop myself from thinking about it, writing about it, and lately fucking reliving the pain. I wake up with my finger nails scratching at my personal areas and not because they itch -because I want to fucking rip them out and never be hurt again. And nobody believes me, God. They either think I'm delusional or that I want the attention and don't mind attacking them to get it. Why? What have I ever done to them? Why am I the bad boy (and yes, some one emerged from inside me today and said I was a "bad, bad boy". It wasn't just any voice -it was my voice, my voice dictating what I would write in my latest poem). I am hurting, God. Save me. Please, God; save me!

Sincerely,
Antonio