MY GREATEST LOVE

MY GREATEST LOVE

This story began when I was in primary school...

The only girl I loved and who I know loved me, abandoned me before I even understood my sexuality. Once, when we were about eleven, she told me that I was an idiot and that she didn't want anything to do with me. I grabbed the last resort then and reminded her that she had a ring on her finger from me. She took it off, as if it suddenly started to burn her and she was pushing it into the bushes (in front of almost the whole school). Then I realized that something has changed irrevocably in my life... But I don't blame her for that. To continue with me in a situation where almost everyone at school thought the same way as what she told me then, would be pure madness (...).

My peers had already moved away from me because they were growing up and I didn't in some way... This was certainly a consequence of my childhood accidents, but I don't want to lament or excuse myself... Nevertheless, somewhere like this since I stopped being a small child and became a teenager, I always heard that I was 'different'. I tried to attract attention, which only resulted in an even greater distance between me and my peers.

My behavior finally resulted in the fact that I was sent by my tutor to individual teaching, which I enjoyed so much that I dragged it to the end of high school. My mother always thought it was her failure as an teacher. Now I know that such a course of teaching has had its negative consequences, but I don't agree with this thesis. I was a constant threat to the peace of mind at lessons and beyond. Sometimes I even threw chairs at colleagues... She simply had no other choice, because my presence in the classroom not only broke the whole curriculum, but was a real threat to safety.

Having a few hours of study a week and a lot of free time, my favorite pastime was drowning in my thoughts and dreams... I didn't have to learn too much, because I was so understanding that I remembered most of the individual lessons, and spent about two, three, sometimes four hours a day at school.

On the introduction, I think that is enough.

Ever since I realized that I liked girls younger than me (when I was somehow twelve-thirteen) more than my peers or older, I began to wonder what it was like with my sexuality in the context of the then emerging "fight against pedophilia "." Is it normal(?)", "Is it sick(?)" and how should I understand this whole "pedophilia that everyone is fighting" in the context of my own sexuality... Even though there were people I confessed my own... 'dilemmas', I couldn't find the answer to the questions that tormented me then.

Finally, I came to the conclusion that if such behaviour towards children is called "pedophilia", which already then filled me with horror, rage and disgust, then I am not and certainly will never become this monster called "pedophile". The pedagogue, with whom I sometimes talked when I had a break between lessons (one or two hours), made me think that I should try to focus my sexual fantasies on older girls. All in all, a colleague, with whom I was still quite close compared to the rest of the class, advised me the same. ("especially if I like them too")

That's how I started to dream about my neighbour, who, although she was a few years older than me, I liked her very much. She was just beautiful and when I met her in our staircase, she always gave me her beautiful sweet smile... So I often thought in the evenings that when I'm a little older, I'll ask her to marry me and my life will finally become normal. (How could I have known that over the years, it will only get harder and worse...)

However, these delusions quickly broke out because she found a husband before I even finished primary school. Of course I was disappointed, but almost immediately my new dream was born. I didn't like him (because of jealousy...), but it was hard not to notice and appreciate his incredible beauty, even for someone who was never interested in men...

So I started to dream that they would have a daughter who would certainly be the Eighth Wonder of the World. Their first son was born them, which was a bit of a disappointment for me, but I didn't give up and dreamed about it still... The following year she was born... I was incredibly happy, but I knew I would have to wait a few more years to see her beauty. This is one of the reasons why a butterfly symbolizes the beauty of children; first he is a caterpillar, which may be charming but does not delight like a butterfly...

And so from year to year, I waited to see this transformation into a Wonder. I often 'practiced' this situation in my mind, how I should behave then (like a kind of psychodrama), what to tell her then not to make an idiot out of myself and not to expose myself as a pedophile... Just to be able to admire her calmly and enjoy the fact that such a beautiful girl is growing up in my neighbourhood...

From my own observations I know that girls transform at different ages. It usually happens at about five/six years of age, and the most beautiful are usually at seven/eight. Admittedly, nowadays it sometimes happens much earlier (abnormally early...) because of children's fashion and other factors which have become a taboo subject thanks to "the fight against pedophilia".

However, she was a caterpillar for a very long time... I remember once, when she was still very tiny, she came down the stairs with such gracefulness; step by step, as if she wanted to say: "look, here I am, the Young Lady...". I already loved her then, although her beauty did not yet impress me. Shortly before the event, which I will describe right away, I was already worried if I wasn't mistaken that she might not be so beautiful...

And suddenly I saw her... in the shop downstairs where we lived. As far as I can remember, my jaw fell down and I become just stupid... All these "psychodramas" didn't help anything, because for that moment, which was like eternity, I only saw her and she was the whole universe to me...

When I was still in primary school, when I sometimes peeked at the girls I liked, they often smiled and improved their hair; such a reflex of their innocent shyness, which always gave me an incredible pleasure, because it was a sign to me that they know that I am curious about their beauty...

..But she didn't improve her hair, as if to read from my look that she doesn't have to improve anything in herself. She just stood looking at me and smiled triumphantly, making herself even more beautiful... She also glanced on Mommy, which I only realized later, because then I completely lost touch with reality for a while. I was just wondering what to say...

There was only one word buzzing in my head: excellent - EXCELLENT - *E*X*C*E*L*L*E*N*T* and on the other hand I was so desperate: "I'M NOT GONNA TELL A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD GIRL, ESPECIALLY WITH HER FAMILY, THAT SHE'S AN *E*X*C*E*L*L*E*N*T* ...BUT NO OTHER WORD FITS HERE!" (at least I couldn't find it... and I still can't... Before and afterwards I've seen thousands of little cuties, but none of them has ever impressed me as much as she did then...) 

So I was standing in a kind of trance for a while and being close to getting down on my knees in front of her (...), I suddenly realized how strange my behaviour must be.. (or even unequivocally)  ..for her mother and grandmother, who were there with her then. So I gave them such a quick, panicky and asking glance... (as if I had suddenly been awakened from sleep) Her mother, as usual, had this warm smile for me, this time lined with a little pity, as if she wanted to tell me that she doesn't see an enemy in me, while her grandmother looked with such 'cultural disbelief...', as if she wanted to say: "a boy your age shouldn't look at a little girl like that...". When I looked at her for a moment, she didn't look at me at all, which I later interpreted as her disappointment that I didn't say anything...

I was so scared, I just escaped from there. (maybe I didn't run away, but I escaped...) But then I didn't realize that the worst was just beginning for me... I fell madly in love with her and although reason told me that she would never be mine, I clung to the thought that although I would fix my mistake and tell her how she is...delightfully beautiful for me. It was still not enough to describe her in my perception, but at least that's it... And that thought became my obsession for the next few years. Again, I practiced my own "psychodrama" to prepare for this situation, when I met her, not to act then somehow 'strange', but every time I met her, whether alone or with someone from her family, I was scared in my throat and chest and didn't even have the courage to look at her...

Then there was anger at myself: "You idiot, you have nothing to be afraid of, you just have to tell her she's beautiful! -"IT'S NOT ANY CRIME THAT YOU THINK SO! But every time I saw her, the situation got even worse, so finally the hopeless despair began to take over the rage... It was no problem for me that she was sexually 'unavailable' for me. I was well aware that I wasn't even allowed to dream about such a thing (except that I would rather hang myself on my own ... than hurt her in any way). The only real problem was that I couldn't even speak to her, that I couldn't be happy that the Eighth Wonder of Nature was growing up next to me...

Over time, I was so hopeless that I even lost all hope of ever overcoming that fear when I met her... Although I dedicated all the love songs I knew to her, it was mainly Rod Steward's "Sailing", which I often listened and crying alone... I associate it with such a mental flow to Love, which has no chance to ever materialize... (to this day, listening to it, I have tears in my eyes and such an irresistible impression that this song, in every sound and every word, reflects my desperate situation from those years...)  I was completely alone with it. Even though there were two people to whom I told about it, I found no support from them; they only saw my admiration, as if they did not understand the suffering at all...

Finally, I started trying to commit suicide. I didn't have the courage to hang myself or do it in any other 'effective' way, so I tried to poison myself with drugs. Each time, however, it ended up in toxicology and later in a psychiatric clinic...

Some time after I saw her (...), I found a site with small photomodels on the Internet, which I thought was a healthy and good alternative to child pornography, from which I always tried to stay as far away as possible. The most important thing for me was that I could finally look without any fear and admire this butterfly beauty...

{I didn't know earlier that there are such sites (in the popular message "Internet pedophilia = child pornography"...) and with time these sites disappeared, one by one, as if defining "the fight against pedophilia" as just the fight against pedophilia, not against the sexual abuse of children... But whatever... For the media it is better for pedophiles to look for child pornography, because then they have something to fight against... That's why they're destroying these photomodel sites...}

I also started dealing with thieves, as if I wanted to find an 'alternative version of myself', because thanks to "the fight against pedophilia" I couldn't be myself and live normally... Sometimes I am confronted with such a reflection on how much evil I have done, seeking acceptance and trying to find myself in this world... But now I know that they never really accepted me as 'theirs' - I was just their useful tool for certain purposes...

But the attitude of a 'street thief' was just my mask, which I tried to wear to become someone else outside. Because I couldn't work out my own love for my lovely neighbour, I found an alternative love for one girl from ThePeopleImage (one of the pages with photomodels). As always, I fanatically went in this love and although she wasn't as beautiful as my neighbour, I managed to idealise her in my own mind. Besides, I was able to look at her without any limits... There was a time when I even wanted to fly to Brazil to give her a gift (I was thinking of a ring or a necklace) as a token of recognition of my love, but this fascination finally started to fade because I started to realize that it was something absurd... And besides, getting older, I could see more and more of her typically Brazilian figure and beauty, which I finally couldn't stop noticing. (even if I didn't have any political views yet, I always liked Slavs the most, especially Polish girls)

I also became addicted to amphetamine, or basically amphetamine masturbation, which allowed me to do it for a long time... I don't advise anyone to even try it! I know it's an easy way to die, because I was almost dead because of it...

Finally, a new chance and hope for a better life came to me when I started to develop spiritually... I've been doing this for over four years now and although I don't have any 'parapsychic' abilities yet, it freed me from addictions and somehow managed to work through emotional and sexual problems. It would be hard for me to say that I am completely healthy, but in contrast to the pre-development times, it is fortunately getting better.

Unfortunately I don't even have any picture of this unimaginable beauty... I used to have two, but I got them secretly from her mother's social profile and I felt very bad with it... So I removed them, even overwriting the disc, so that I couldn't think of recovering them. I'd love to have her pictures, especially from the time when she delighted me so much, but only from her personally,  if at all...

Fortunately, these terrible years are over... And although briefly, but I managed to enjoy normalcy in her surroundings for some time. Growing up, I think she realized that I was just afraid of her...

Only once, when she was little, I managed to talk to her: "how about the grades?" when she came back from the end of the school year. She smiled and said "fine". I almost had a heart attack, but how happy I was later that I managed to tell her something more than "hello"... Unfortunately, only for a short period of time, because I did not manage to overcome this paranoia...

Over time, she started talking to me herself, ending this tragic chapter in my life. Did she know that? I don't know... (Nevertheless, I was VERY THANKFUL for her) But later, unfortunately, the owner of the tenement house changed when I was at some rehab and I didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to her. To say I would miss her... Such consequences unfortunately had my prayer "to make it end; to free myself from this situation"...

It is also worth adding that I did not admire her only for her beauty. I also enjoyed that she was always smiling and self-confident. That she goes through her life with a hit, does what she wants and certainly doesn't care about some stupid rumours about herself... (I wasn't able to do that...) So not only the appearance, but also the attitude became my Dream in every way. I can surely say that she even outgrown my ideas about her when she was just 'in plans'... Unfortunately, I wasn't able to enjoy the fact that the Most Beautiful Butterfly in the World is growing up next to me... And as far as my biggest blunder there in the store is concerned, which was the beginning of all problems (...), well... I hope that at least in a fraction of the percentage I contributed by it to building her self-esteem...

And was it someone's fault? Was it my own? A little bit of my cowardice, I suppose... As far as she was concerned, it never appeared in my mind that I could blame her for anything, even apart from the fact that she was a child... Or any of her family? I've always had a good relationship with her mother and grandfather; they never showed me any reserve. When I met her grandfather in the stairwell, sometimes I even felt like he wanted to talk to me about it. He wasn't in the shop at those time, but he knew for sure... But neither of us ever got to start this conversation. And I really wanted to tell him, or her mom, that she's incredibly beautiful to me, but they never have to be afraid of me because of that... In fact, her grandmother didn't show me any antipathy either, but I guess she was rather hiding it under 'neighbourly courtesy'. Only with her father and brother was the worse situation. They both didn't even try to hide that they didn't like me and didn't want anything to do with me. Can I blame them for that? I did blame them then; they treated me like stinking air, and I felt innocent, so it was rebelling my pride. But now I understand them. I've never even had a word with them, but it's perfectly normal for a father to fear for his daughter, his Little Princess... He didn't know me, he only knew that she delighted me and he probably heard something there, that "I'm not completely normal"... And her brother was also a child, and he must have listened to what his father had to say about me.

However, there is a factor here to which I attribute ONE HUNDRET PERCENT OF BLAME for destroying me those years - it is "THE FIGHT AGAINST PEDOPHILIA" which brought my admiration down to something 'abnormal' and shackled me with an obsessive love and psychosis of fear. As if it all looked different if I wasn't afraid of her and could speak to her normally... I knew it then, but I was thinking only about myself; about my own problems with it. But since we no longer live there, I began to wonder what consequences this psychosis had on the outside of me... Was she afraid of me too, sensing my fear as we passed each other in the cage? Was her family also afraid of thinking of me as a 'bomb with delayed ignition' (how does "the fight against pedophilia" define pedophiles)? If so, I would like to apologize one day to her and her whole family because they certainly didn't deserve to suffer because of me...

"The fight against pedophilia" is destroying all of us, and only by understanding what it really is, and ending this terrible social psychosis, with a twisted pretending of desire to protect children from abuse (which is in fact generally an indirect cause...), we will be able to prevent such situations in the future...

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