Mysterious Skin

there’s a good five-ten years  of childhood missing from my memory. i can picture certain events happening from people describing them to me, ive seen pictures of myself and i can kind of imagine myself living but it isn’t enough. trauma has damaged everything about me it has damaged the way i view others, the way i view myself and the way i used to see myself. there is now a pre and post abuse and the pre , the part where i was happiest, is mostly gone. i remember after my abuse happened i convinced myself nothing had happened i told myself and others it was a wonderful experience it was beautiful it as romantic it was anything other than it was as i couldn’t let myself be a victim and i couldn’t let him be the villain. it took me a month to realise what actually happened and that was only because someone told me outright it was abuse otherwise i might have lived my life not knowing and assuming i was okay... i might have been happier that way.

the last scene of mysterious skin is probably my favourite scene of all of cinema. us the audience have watched this poor boy convince himself that he wasn’t molested or sexually abused he convinced himself that it was anything other than that to the point where he believed something so stupid and hyperbole that it feels unbelievable yet i get it. i convinced myself he was a good person which now feels just as stupid but sometimes like brian i wish it was just aliens who did it or monsters or anything else as it would make more sense than the horror of what really happened.

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