I awoke to the sound of dining ware clanging and people laughing downstairs as breakfast was being made. The morning light shone brightly through the sheer curtains, and it was truly stunning against the dark contrast of the wooden walls.

I was at my favorite place, my aunt and uncle’s farmhouse in Michigan. Each summer, my family would road trip there from the Chicago suburbs and spend at least a month with them. If you were to imagine what your dream summer as a child was, it would seem a little something like how I spent mine in Michigan as a child. The property had acres of cornfields behind it that we would explore, a pool, a tire swing, livestock. It really can’t get much better than this, I remember I used to think.

My feet padded down the stairs anticipating the breakfast spread that I knew what would await me when I reached the source of the commotion that had awaken me. I was the last one to wake, per usual, and I was greeted with teasing jokes from my family about how late I slept each morning. 

Me and my 2 siblings looked up to my cousins immensely, they were several years older than us, but always were incredibly nice and kind to us. I was particularly close with my cousin Casey. At the time he was 16, and I was 6 years old. However, he and I got along well, and he would always take the time to make sure me and my siblings were having fun and enjoying ourselves. I never felt belittled by him, or like a nuisance.

I had predicted this to be the best summer yet, from what my parents had told me there were many exciting things had been planned.

After breakfast, I quickly went upstairs to change and brush my teeth so I could go outside and play. I threw on my favorite worn out cutoff shorts and a graphic shirt. I don’t remember much else that happened between then and the events I’m about to discuss, but I do know that it changed my life forever and is still with me today.

After a long day of running around outside, all the kids retired inside to watch T.V. I was the last to enter the room, meaning all of the chairs had been occupied. Casey beckoned for me to sit on the armchair with him, so I did, of course wanting to be included.  He mentioned he was cold and pulled a blanket over us. I felt totally comfortable, this was normal behavior as far as I was aware of. Within a minute, I felt his fingers approach the button on my shorts. I shifted, bringing my waist out of his reach. He persisted, and I glanced around at my clueless cousins and siblings with their attention completely focused on the TV. Soon enough, I could feel his hand slide under each layer I was wearing and onto my bare skin.

At 6 years old, I did not really understand what was happening, but I knew something was wrong. From this day forward, I hated every summer at that fucking farm house. Things only began to become more intense with Casey each time we returned. He was getting braver, and I was becoming more afraid. 

It was years later when I told my parents what was going on, and that was one of the hardest conversations I’ve ever had to have in my life. I struggled with shame and guilt. I felt violated, and like a piece of me had been stolen. Now at 19 years old, I have yet to find the piece he stole from me, and I doubt I ever will.

Can you hear me?
I am crying.
My sorrow feels all engulfing
At the bottom of this pit.
I feel as I am drowning.

Can you hear me?
I am yelling.
My body drips
With the tar of the day.
My eyes are pouring.

Can you hear me?
I am sobbing.
I feel oh so weak.
My demons are calling
To remind me of what pain can be.

Can you hear me?
I am screaming
Into the nothingness
That my soul is approaching.
I am almost a shell.

But not quite.

But not quite.

"We are attracted to chaos but inherently desire peace."

Three o'clock a.m.
The red light light shines.
I admire the curve of your back
The breadth of your shoulders
In the shadows of the night.
Your soft snores are like a lullaby
Yet I cannot sleep.

In moments without you
I am brought back to the reality
That you do not love me.
You love my body,
That I know.
But what about my mind,
My soul?

My desperate longing for your affection
Keeps me coming back for more;
Just to indulge myself in those small moments
That intoxicate me
And distract me from the truth. 

For how long will my heart ache
As I keep making the same mistake
Of pretending you love me too?

The canopy is dark

Yet oddly beautiful.

The end seems out of reach

Or is just so far I can’t see it.

It makes the journey seem endless.

The branches not allowing advancement.

It is my end

That I wish to see.

This is an example post, originally published as part of Blogging University. Enroll in one of our ten programs, and start your blog right.

You’re going to publish a post today. Don’t worry about how your blog looks. Don’t worry if you haven’t given it a name yet, or you’re feeling overwhelmed. Just click the “New Post” button, and tell us why you’re here.

Why do this?

• Because it gives new readers context. What are you about? Why should they read your blog?
• Because it will help you focus you own ideas about your blog and what you’d like to do with it.

The post can be short or long, a personal intro to your life or a bloggy mission statement, a manifesto for the future or a simple outline of your the types of things you hope to publish.

To help you get started, here are a few questions:

• Why are you blogging publicly, rather than keeping a personal journal?
• What topics do you think you’ll write about?
• Who would you love to connect with via your blog?
• If you blog successfully throughout the next year, what would you hope to have accomplished?

You’re not locked into any of this; one of the wonderful things about blogs is how they constantly evolve as we learn, grow, and interact with one another — but it’s good to know where and why you started, and articulating your goals may just give you a few other post ideas.

Can’t think how to get started? Just write the first thing that pops into your head. Anne Lamott, author of a book on writing we love, says that you need to give yourself permission to write a “crappy first draft”. Anne makes a great point — just start writing, and worry about editing it later.

When you’re ready to publish, give your post three to five tags that describe your blog’s focus — writing, photography, fiction, parenting, food, cars, movies, sports, whatever. These tags will help others who care about your topics find you in the Reader. Make sure one of the tags is “zerotohero,” so other new bloggers can find you, too.