Date: Fri, 25 Apr 2008 16:24:57 -0400
From: Sean E <ekidky@hotmail.com>
Subject: My Road of Life's Discoveries - Ch 6

Discoveries on My Journey of Life
EKidKy - :o)

Here's my next, somewhat shorter, piece.  All I will say is, of the 12-15
peeps who have read and written me already, thank you - for everything.

	I guess the usual warnings should be in place: if you shouldn't be
reading this, then don't. If you're a teen though, and you want see how I
dealt with life and sex and feelings and being alone while I grew up
though, then... It's up to you - I won't (or can't) stop you. Let's just
say there is a lot of stuff in these chapters, and here I'm just continuing
on...

--------------------

--- Chapter Six ---

In the weeks and months that followed Cody's leaving, at first I was
saddened by his departure. Looking back, I was really hard on myself: my
friend, my best friend I had ever had, a gift given to me I think from
Heaven, was now suddenly being taken away.  For a long time, even though we
continued to visit some and still have our moments, I felt like deep down I
was being punished, that because we had did our things - our "trust" with
each other - that it was some massive taboo that was backfiring on me.  I
felt indifferent for a while, cold, unfeeling - because other than the
visits we made with one another, more often him visiting me than otherwise
- it was just a numbness that wouldn't go away.

	The effect on me was so bad that for a time, I put almost all my
sexual energies aside I think, afraid to even go there anymore, to
fantasize, to be curious about other kids, boys or girls. I jacked off only
on the rarest of occassions at times, and even then somehow feeling lost,
incomplete.  When it came to things I had done, not only just sucking him,
but also taking a part of him inside me, something I think most people
would have found disgusting, I somehow got in my head that just that alone
must have been the forbidden apple, the tip on the iceberg.  I mean, sure,
we took baths, touched, looked at each other - heck, even the jocks take
showers and stuff with other guys, right?  Maybe not so physical like we
had doneit, but even though it was fun, in a kinky sort of way, we didn't
really have that "sexual" take on each other all the time.  I was curious -
and I still am to this day - what other look like, maybe even what they
feel like.  So I sort of figured that was okay, and when I did do it, I
fantasized to that extent.  Still, when it came to going beyond that,
sucking and taking and swallowing and stuff, that was the things that made
me think I was being punished.

	It's funny what things can do to a kids head, you know?  I stayed
in my room a lot, or stayed out riding my bike around the countryside,
because that kept me from having to make contact, kept me from being in
touch with anybody or anything.  Maybe some people would have craved it,
even became sex maniacs or something, I don't know; for me, I was just
scared, and depressed, and just numb.  It was almost 3 months after Cody's
family had gone before we got to see each other again. It was only for a
day; his family had come back to visit friends, and it just conveniently
worked out to be on a Sunday after church. The time we spent afterwards,
for a little while, was like he had never left.  I think I knew and
understood how much I really loved him then, and how much I missed him.
The first thing he did for me when we were alone was give me a hug, a real
hug.  My tears had dried up long before then, but the warmth in my heart
was ever present that day. I tried to put on the brave front, you know, not
show I was a sissy or anything, but when we separated, I saw his eyes and
his smile, and I honestly believed he missed me as much as I missed him.
His eyes were watery, not crying but they had that thing about them, you
know, that happiness and spark in them, enough so it made me do the same
then, let my guard down.  He was only there for a couple of hours, and we
really didn't have time or privacy to do anything much, but when we decided
to talk and play some video games, there was only one bean bag used,
because he used me to sit up with, to lean on, to relax on.  I finally, for
a little while, could feel something inside of me again.  When he left,
instead of being sad and almost crying (that came later), I was so happy -
and moreso of the fact that just those little things had made me feel
trusted and warm again.

	Again, I honestly don't think it was the sex stuff in our
friendship that made me feel so close.  I'm sure it probably helped a
little, because the intimacy, the trust it made for us in the most barest
of ways possible - not just naked skin, but naked souls too.  Instead, like
I said before, I thought I was being punished for us being torn apart like
we were. I can't describe why I was that way, but knowing things now,
knowing what drove me when I jacked off and stuff, sex just took a
back-burner for a while.  In the end I think I was just plain scared.  I
didn't question the "gayness" of it all, because I knew him enough on the
inside it was like we agreed: brothers, curiosity, and just a deep sense of
trust.  I would do anything for him, and I knew it, even let him top me or
whatever if it had came to that. That was how much of my heart and soul I
would have been willing to give him I think.  I don't know how Cody felt,
other than the little things he gave me back. At the time, all the while I
was growing up, it was enough for me to feel he had that trust in me, and
ultimtaley it was all that mattered.

	Within about a month he was back again on a surprise visit, this
time spending the whole weekend with me. At first it was awkward, for me
anyway, but again it was the little things he did when we were together
that melted me. I really don't think he ever knew what those did for me -
in fact, I know he didn't.  There was a time we traded emails once, and he
asked me some things, one of which was why did I always seem so sad.  So I
told him, and I think it was probably one of my first letters where I
learned - or started learning - how to spell everything out as much as I
now write here. I told him that when he was here, some of the little things
he did and they had made me feel so much better, not so alone. They were
things guys don't really do, not even friends, like putting his head on my
shoulder, nuzzling my neck sometimes, sitting so close and just being free
with me, like sharing a soda; or even just the way we wrestled - most guys
would never touch anther persons crotch or anything, and not that he ever
did it to like, grope me or anything, he just wasn't afraid.  I told him
what life was like for me at times, the guys picking on me, the rejection I
always felt, and how nobody seemed to want to be around me much, but when
he was there and did that, I just felt "normal" - or at least what I felt
like was normal - around him, accepted as a human being, not some freak or
anything.

	His response?  He first told me to never call myself a freak again,
or he'd hop a bus and come down and beat the snot out of me or something.
Then he told me I WAS normal, just as normal as he was or any other boy he
knew.  That was a big spirit lifter for me, I think.  He knew we did things
other boys don't do, things he couldn't do with his other friends, but he
also said he knew it was because of our bond we had.  He told me there were
little things I did too, telling me about sharing my clothes with him, even
my underwear; about how when I came to visit, how careful we always were,
but that I was always so nice to his sister and parents, and how when we
got alone the one time of night we knew we could have a little time to
ourselves, that he could hug and especially how he could feel ME, feel me
there in HIS world, HIS room for a change. That was a big surprise! He told
me how easy I was to talk with, especially about the things that were so
taboo. He said guys talk about that stuff with girls all the time, but when
we talked, he didn't have to hold anything back, didn't have to be ashamed
or anything, especially when we talked about both girls AND guys, you know,
boys and dicks and nuts and creaming and everything else. He also told me
how it was so cool to him how we could always spoon up so perfectly to one
another, and how awesome that always felt.  Lastly, I think he added
somewhere in that that of all the kids we both knew, how they would cuss
and curse like everything, he always like the fact we didn't do it - much
anyways, and I smiled when I recognized what he was saying.

	He also told me that even though it had been a couple of years,
whenever he talked to me or got a letter, his insides turned mushy too,
because he still remembered, still felt the trust we had.  Most of all
though, he said he still loved that brotherly bond we had, that pact
between us, and even though we moved on since then, he still felt it just
as strong as the day we made it.  Now, that might sound cliche, but let me
set the record straight on one thing: I never spoke of some of that stuff,
those things he mentioned in our emails before then, and I never prompted
him to tell me anything that would stir me up or pull at my heartstrings
any.  All I did was tell him what the "normal" had been like for me, and
how it had been different when he was gone. When it came to what he wrote
me back, he did that - told me that stuff - all on his own, as if he was
reading my mind, reading my heart I guess.  Maybe he knew I needed to feel,
to hear how he felt, because that is exactly what he gave me.  And he ended
the letter again, telling me to stop putting myself down so much and stuff,
because he knew me, really knew me and what I was living through inside by
myself with just my Mom.  He ended it, as he always did anymore, reminding
me to never forget we were were Bro's, and that we always would be. The way
he wrote, it wasn't bullshit either, it couldn't have been empty words, but
even if they were I didn't care, because that was all the world to me.  I
still have that letter he sent me, and a couple of others, and when I get
down sometimes, even today, I go find it and read it again.

	All of this is beside the point though, because when he came for
THAT weekend, by the first night the awkwardness melted away and we had
became inseparable again.  By the time we went to sleep, we were cuddling
and spooning as we always had.  He asked if I wanted to do anything, and
yes I knew what he was asking, and I told him I would do anything for him,
but what I really wanted was just to hold him right then, to feel again,
and that is exactly what he let me do. I didn't do the only holding either,
because we fought sometimes who was going to do what.  We did do "stuff"
that weekend, but that first night was no sex or anything - unless you
count the almost bareback spooning and snuggling we did as anything, the
feeling up and down of each other with our hands, of our skin, our chests,
our backs, inside and outside our briefs, thighs... everywhere.

	Like I said, we did do stuff that weekend, and it broke me a little
from my shell of closing up inside.  I didn't fear sex between us any, and
eventually I figured well, if I was really being punished, then what was
this suppose to be?  Why was he back to see me then, for a whole weekend at
that?  My thinking and feelings didn't turn around in just that weekend,
but after a couple of other visits, and sharing our freedom and closeness
and whatnot, it was enough after a while to give in to the sex stuff more,
for me to finally believe I wasn't being punished.  Still, I was 13 at the
time, and it seemed only when he was there, or when I got to go up and
visit him.  With him, with Cody, he was the only friend I could *feel*
anything with inside.  When he was gone, I was withdrawn, and I stayed that
way well into the next school year, beyond Christmas and the following
spring.  I was alone again.

	When my 14th birthday rolled around, both Mom and Dad had started
to get worried about me.  They often tried to coax me into doing stuff,
getting involved with this or that.  I had started helping out our
neighbor, the family that owned the farm around which our house sat, first
doing simple stuff but eventually hauling hay and helping drive the tractor
some.  I didn't withdraw away from that, or other responsibilities I was
offered; it was good to do something different sometimes, and I liked it to
a point.  He even paid me a little money for helping him, some of which I
kept, some of which I let Mom have.  Still, you can't work all the time,
and farm-life only does so much for somebody my size.  I hit 5'4", maybe
5'5" at some point that year, and just stayed there.  I filled out a little
more as far as shedding my pre-teen appearance, and I had built some
muscles, especially in my legs, probably from all the bike riding I was
doing.  Other parts of me were changing too, but not like the rest of the
kids in my class.  In the end I was still shrimp-like I think, almost a
geek to the core.  I don't think it bothered me too bad - everyone told me
I was coming along, just a little behind was all.  It would be a while
before I would grow to my full height though, and the longer it took, the
more uneasy I got.

	On my birthday in April of 2000, Dad decided maybe it would be time
I got a computer.  Since both he and Mom had divorced, money was tight for
us, to that I've made no illusion in describing these things before.
Although it got better a little for Mom, her raising me I know made it
hard.  I never understood why she wouldn't re-marry or anything, it just
wasn't in her interest I guess.  She worked at the local florist, and she
got along great with everyone there; she seemed happy with it, if there is
such a thing.  Dad was like Mom in the beginning, having to make a living
for himself and help pay for me, for us. The difference came though when he
initially moved to Wisconsin to take a job at the University of Madison.
He had a Master's degree in History, and unlike many colleges around the
country who had a dime-a-dozen people who could do the job, they had been
having some trouble.  Dad's brother (my uncle) helped him get the job
through contacts, and it was at that point Dad started to hold his own a
lot better.  I don't think he was ever rich as some people would call it,
but compared to me and Mom he was, well, a lot better off. It's not
something he kept to himself either - he shared it, I think, with us as
much as he could.  I've already told about the fact he got us another car,
that he did several things for us when times really got tough. More than
anything, I now remember looking back and never, ever once heard a cross
thing said from either of them, on the phone, in person, or through me,
toward the other.  I was too young to appreciate it for a long while, but
now I am forever grateful, and saddened they couldn't put aside whatever
separated them to start with and get back together.

	So Dad bought me a computer - not a fancy outfit, but it had most
of the bells and whistles the schools had at least. It had a CAM, a modem,
color screen, the usual, and at first I didn't do much with it, but the
summer of my 14th year, as school was out and I stayed either out on my
bike, or up in my room, he set me up with an internet service, and he
started teaching me how to stay connected with him - writing emails and so
forth.  I also got to keep in touch with COdy - although by that time he
had moved to northern Indiana, somewhere too far for me ever to hope to
visit with him anymore - and my cousin Timmy up there.  I mention Timmy
because he was a very important kid in my life, and you'll see why in a
little while.  Before long I discovered chat rooms, and life for me started
to pick up a little.  I made some so-called friends, something I found was
easy to do once you proved you were not some creepy perv or somebody
fishing for kids, which I could do since I had the cam.  It wasn't so bad,
and it actually helped me a lot at first.

	I had the computer for about 6 months, after school had started
again. I was beginning to really like the fact I could chat with other
people around the world; I wasn't totally hooked onto chat rooms, but
getting close to some of the guys there, finding out there were others who
were going through some of the stuff I went through, sure made an
impression on me.  I knew better about the security stuff - after big
lectures from my Mom and my one cousin who was deep into computers and such
- not to give my name or addess or anything.  Still, I was a little too
trusting some nights though, and Mom already had heard plenty of horror
stories and whatnot, about the things kids do on the internet.

	It was because of those "stories" she had heard that made my life
take another turn and twist.  It was one night, late on a Friday in October
I think, not far from Halloween. I had come home from the neighbor's house,
and had went to my room and turned on the computer, logging into MSN and
checking out who was online.  Like I usually did back then (and still do
today), I had stripped to just my briefs and t-shirt, intending to go to
bed soon anyway, when an online friend messaged me and wanted to show me
something.  I didn't think nothing of it, so I clicked on the view cam
button, or option, or whatever it was, and it not only opened a video
window to him, but opened my cam up to him as well.  I didn't think
anything of it - honest; I was sitting at my desk, people could see mostly
just my t-shirt, and I guess if they had been the observing kind they might
catch a glimpse of my underwear sometimes, but that was it; I certainly
wasn't putting on a show for anyone - though there were the usual who tried
to get me to do so.  Still, that was about it.  Well, I don't recall what
it was he showed me, nothing dirty or vulgar or anything; I think he was
into doing artwork and stuff mostly was all.  I had his video window pretty
big on my screen I think to make out the detail and stuff.  So anyway, he
showed me and then stood up to go get something.  He had on boxers and a
t-shirt, but he also had a boner that was very, very visible under the
fabric, tenting out in front, for whatever reason.

	As it turned out, the time he stood up - with a fully tented boxer
front - could not have been worse. Although the upstairs is very much my
private haven, Mom had chosen that moment to come upstairs and see about
something. She was at my door and just happened to look inside and saw him
pass by on the screen, his boner amplified big time in the video image. She
looked at me, saw me in my underwear, although I am certain I did NOT have
a boner or anything then, and then she just went beserk, I mean almost
livid.  She walked over, unplugged everything from the wall and told me to
get in bed that instant and not say another word.  She was so mad, I could
not even figure out why, and that was making me angry too, but also scared
out of my wits.  'Why? What's wrong?' and she would ignore me, other than
one time she muttered 'You know very well...'

	Was I THAT nieve?  Yeah, I probably was; I wasn't hiding anything,
not trying to be secretive about anything at all.  It didn't make any
difference though.  She took my cam right off the monitor, and my keyboard
and mouse dangling from her hands, she litterally stomped out of the room,
back downstairs, my mouth drawn open, speechless.  I heard a door slam, and
then the tears started to well up in me, because I honestly didn't know,
didn't understand the big deal.  I was 14, had already been through some of
the lowest points in my life ever, was on a little bit of a rebound and
then this happened.  I went downstaitrs, called for her, but she wouldn't
answer me.  There was nothing but silence that way the whole night; the
next day was the same, and of course I was banned from the computer.  I was
in hysterics, and I cried, but only to myself.  I don't remember exactly
what I did, but I know the next few days was the longest I had ever went
with her giving me the silent treatment.  She was royally pissed about
something, and what it was I hadn't the slightest clue.

	Eventually that cousin I mentioned before, the one who was deep
into computers, came over later that next week and started to go through my
computer.  He was there when I got home one day from school, so I just went
in and stretched out on my bed, looking dumb I'm sure, and Mom was standing
next to him the whole time.  I'm sitting there thinking 'Huh?'  At one
point, the silence was broken when the phone rang and Mom went back
downstairs to answer it, leaving me and Josh alone.

	"Josh?" I asked.

	"Yeah Sean?"

	"What's going on?" He looked at me, a look of confusion in his
face, so I pleaded. "Please tell me why Mom is so mad, why are you here,
whats going on?"

	Comprehension crossed his features, and looking to the door, he
lowered his voice.  "Tell me something, you been getting into porn?"

	"NO! I mean, sometimes I might get a site by accident or something,
but heck, no! I mean..."

	He nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean, its hard to completely
avoid it..." He looked at me close. "You can tell me though, have you been
getting into it any?"

	"Into what? Porn?"

	He nodded.

	I gave him the hardest stare I could muster up. "NO Josh! I do not
go to porn sites and stuff!"

	He shook his head.  "Sean, I think all boys - "

	"NO JOSH!" I was getting louder, and he was trying to hush me as I
added, "I don't even like the crap, big hairy creeps and boobs and whatever
doing sick stuff..." I emphasized each word, because I really meant it,
"I... DO... NOT... DO... PORN!"

	"Jesus Sean, keep it down! Okay, okay!"  He paused.  "Well,
something happened, because your mom said you was on here with some kid the
other night and you two were looking at porn or something. Thats why I'm
here, to see if I can find out what you've been doing..."

	Finally!  He gave me an answer I could understand, and it all
clicked in place.  Okay, so maybe I wasn't the fastest person in the world
to connect the dots, but still...  I got up and walked over and told him
how to do a search, my eyes stinging from the humility of it, but I knew in
my heart - for other reasons - that I was in the clear.  I really was
innocent, and I would do anything I could to prove it.  He was impressed
with the stuff I walked him through, telling him everything I knew and had
learned, and of course he knew several tricks too, searching for pictures,
finding sites I had been to, history, everything.  He even searched for
compressed folders and hidden files and the like, but I had nothing to
hide, and eventually he believed me.  Mom never came back upstairs, and it
was a good hour or more before Josh finaly just sat back and sighed.
"You're clean kiddo. To be honest, knowing you, I didn't think you would be
into anything like that, but man, you freaked your Mom out."

	Huh? 'Knowing me?' And just what was that suppose to mean?  Was I
some goody-two-shoe gum now that everyone thought they knew me better than
myself?  How wrong they were!  I started getting angry. "What do you think
she's been doing to me? I guess it doesn't matter if I freak the fuck out
either, does it? Nobody cares about what goody-little-Sean feels, do they?
I'm just the guilty piss-ant people can shit on and laugh about it
afterwards, right?"  Oh I was so mad then, I wasn't even thinking clearly,
even my curses were flubbed like water spewing from a water hose; Josh was
so shocked he couldn't say anything, and when I turned to leave, of all the
times for it to happen, I saw Mom in the doorway. She had that look on her
face, the look like 'What did you just say...?', but I didn't care.  I
pushed my way and ran past her, down the steps and out the front door,
hopping on my bike and taking off as fast as I could pedal.  I got a good
couple of miles from the house before I pulled off into a field and started
to cry, really cry hard.  I hadn't done that almost since Cody told me that
night his family was leaving me, and that was over two years ago.  I got to
tell you, it hurt so bad I was screaming at the world, at myself, at
anything to just let it out.  Whether anyone reading this or not can
understand or believe me, I really wasn't into porn then. I was just too
messed up I think for a while, to much alone.  Yeah, I could find it on the
net if I wanted to, it really wasn't that hard; but I was still zombied on
the inside, still empty. I had just started coming out of my shell a
little, and I had this idea, this thing in my head that said maybe my
punishment was over, maybe this was Heaven's way of letting me have some of
my feelings back a little, letting me at least feel a little something
again.  I didn't want to screw it up again, and besides - I had no interest
in girls still, and my limits I put on myself with boys was really
pathetic.

	What hurt me the most though was my Mom - not the fact that she
misunderstood what she had seen or anything, I mean, anyone can make a
mistake, right?  It was just the fact I felt she put all our trust in the
garbage that night and the days afterward and just sent it out the door.
She wouldn't talk to me, she wouldn't tell me what was going on - I was
guilty and ready to be sentenced without any possibility of parole, but yet
as far as I knew, I hadn't even committed a crime!  I cried worst because
it felt like she didn't trust me anymore. One thing Cody had taught me, and
not in the sex-way either, was that a lot of stuff in life is based on how
much trust you can put in a person.  I gave her almost everything;
obviously I didnt tell her ever about the sex stuff going through my head,
or heart, or life - to me that was just something she couldn't, or wouldn't
ever understand; for everything else though, I held nothing back. I had
always thought - with maybe the exception of her and Dad's divorce - that
we could talk about anything. I was wrong, and that weekend and the next
week it had been proven to me.  When I got it out of my system, when all
the rage and anger and shock finally left me, I turned stone cold, I
wouldn't talk to anyone, I couldn't even hardly eat.  On days when I got
home from school, I was on my bike and I stayed anywhere I could away from
home for weeks.  It was late in the fall, and the sun dropped early then,
the nights getting cooler; still I would stay out as long as I could get
away with it, and then some.

	Finally Halloween came, and some 3-4 weeks had passed.  I wasn't
feeling any better, but I grudgingly had no place else to go, so I came
home giving her the same treatment she gave me.  On that Halloween day
though after school, I got home and started to do my usual things. Mom was
sitting on the swing when I walked up the steps to our front porch.

	"Sean, stop..."

	I looked at her - not evil or anything, more annoyed I guess; she
only looked at me, not saying a word, so I just ignored her, went to my
room and dropped my books.  She followed me upstairs but she did it
respectfully. She stood at my door as I kicked off my shoes, turned on the
TV and plopped on the bed, not coming in, but watching me.  I didn't care
though.  I was still hurting inside, even after all the time already passed
us, and so wished Dad or someone would just come take me away somewhere.
She stood there, battling with these emotions on her face I guess, because
I noticed her wiping her eyes a time or two.  I was hurting her, and deep
down I knew it, but so was she doing the same for me, and she wasn't giving
in.  Because of that, I wasn't going to give in either.

	She sighed at one point and then spoke quietly to me. "Sean, we
have to talk."

	I remember looking at her. There was a dead silence between us, and
I think I tried, I really tried to let my guard down, to listen, but when
she stood there and said nothing, something boiled inside of me again.  I
didn't speak mean, I wasn't trying to be a smart-ass or anything; I just
used the same quiet voice she had used with me.  "Yeah, you would think so
I guess.  When it's convenient for you, you want to talk, but if I need to
talk, if I need to hear you, if I need to know anything, to feel anything,
its not worth crap."  I even surprised myself at what I said, and I knew I
was fumbling my words again.  I saw the look, the hurt in her eyes though,
and I think she knew what I was trying to say.  I turned back to the TV and
ignored her again.  She said nothing else, standing there for a moment
before just silently leaving, going back downstairs.

	I remember a few trick-or-treaters came, I heard them at the door,
but unlike so many times in the past, I had no interest in them.  I was in
the dumps again, beginning to finally feel sorry for what I had said.  She
didn't deserve it, and I knew it, but moreover I also knew she was *trying*
to make it right, trying to reach back to me.  I had just about resolved to
go down and try to listen to her, when there came a knock at my bedroom
door.  It startled me, and when I looked up, Dad was there.  I was in
shock, and I know my jaw had to have dropped open a couple of times, trying
to say something, but no words coming out.  I remember I got up slowly and
walked to the door, my steps ever so slow, my thoughts going a hundred
miles a second.  I'm sure I even whimpered before I finally just fell in
his arms, burying my face in his between his chest and belly.  There could
not ever have been one person in the world who I would have been more happy
to see right then.  I didn't care if he was there to whip me again or not,
because maybe in some ways I deserved it.  Instead, I just crashed into
him, hugging, and... yeah, for the second time in as many weeks... crying
my heart out.  From what I remember, I never said a word, couldn't say
anything; I just bawled, all the anger, the frustration, all the hurt
gushing from me.

	That night, he had to coax me a little, but we ended up going out
to eat, and he brought Mom along. She was as red-eyed as I was I think, and
I felt sorry for her.  Still, I clung to Dad like glue; it was probably the
second time in my life growing up I needed him without realizing it, and
somehow magically he was just there.  I asked Mom a long time afterwards if
she had called him, but she told me no; Dad also told me later he just felt
like something was calling him home, so he came to see me. He knew Mom and
I were having some problems - evidently they had been talking off and on -
but for that night, he just decided to come over. Is that magical or what?

	We sat down in the restaurant and began to talk, all three of us.
I finally got Mom to listen to me, really listen to me, and before it was
over, I finally forgave her and listened to her too.  Dad helped me, to
work out my feelings some, but there was still a barrier there, something I
could sense but just couldn't understand.  In the end, it was only my word,
there was nothing I could do or say to convince her I wasn't into porn or
stuff with other kids on the cam.  She knew I floated around in my
underwear a lot in my room, that should have been no surprise to her; its
one of the reasons she generally gave me my privacy, I think.  Other than
the fact Josh hadn't found anything on the computer, it was all I had, but
it wasn't enough.  They agreed, telling me together, they knew I was a good
kid and that it all got blown out of proportion, but in the end the damage
was done.  Even when I looked in my mothers eyes - I saw it, I had lost
some of that trust we had always shared, and I felt cheated of it.

	In the end they let me back on the computer - with the stipulation
I had to give up the cam. At first I was against it, even though they were
my parents and even though their word was law, I still felt betrayed for
something that wasn't my fault.  Dad convinced me to try and look at it
from Mom's point of view, and in the end I had to concede maybe she had had
a right to be upset, but that was all.  In the end I told them both it
still didn't give her the right to not trust me without talking to me
first, without thinking how I was feeling, about blowing up and treating me
like some kind of criminal.  She cried then and said she understood that
now, that I was getting older, that I had the right to have those feelings
now.

	When everything was said and done, it was a sucky compromise but I
agreed to it.  I promised, on my heart, not to use a cam anymore until they
told me otherwise.  I felt cheated, but it was done, and so was the damage.
Every time I got on the computer afterwards for the rest of the school
year, I felt the betrayal inside of me, the lost trust.  I refused to go
back to chat rooms or anywhere else, just doing some basic stuff and
keeping my emails with Dad and Cody alive.

	I go into all of this because I am trying to explain what life was
like for me after Cody, and before Timmy.  I had a hard time - not like a
lot of kids did, and I knew that - but it was a lot of hurt I went through,
and of course, in the end, I withdrew back into my shell.  Because once
again... well... I was alone...

	---

	Although this is a short chapter compared to my others, I think it
best to stop it here.  If you're reading, thinking 'Where's the sex?', then
I'm sorry to disappoint you.  This is my story though, my real life
struggles with myself, and though it might not sound like much, a lot of
what happened here had a lot to bear on what's to come.

	Thanks everyone - for reading, writing me - everything.  I can't
express how its made me feel.  Take care.

	-- EKidKy