It had been a long day at school. I was eighteen years old and I hadn't had sex yet. This made me absolutely miserable because all of my friends had sex already with someone. I constantly felt unwanted and undesirable. Every night I would masturbate in my room. No one knew about it and it was just one of those things that I did. Hours had passed. I had done my homework, fed the dog, talked to my friend Anna on the phone, ate dinner with the family, and took a shower. Then after my shower, I hopped on my bed.
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Ever since I was a little girl I believed that my older brother was a most perfect person I could ever know. He was always kind to me, and was always there when I needed him. Even as we got older, he would always ask me how my day was, if I needed help with homework, or if there was anything the matter. On several accounts he put dumb guys in their place if they treated me badly.
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I still have some of the pictures that my half-brother took. They are mostly shots of me at 15 or 16, adopting poses which are a bizarre cross between Wuthering Heights and Page Three. But there is a much earlier one in which the pathos is tangible. My face is still round with puppy fat, but I'm trying to compensate by smothering myself in make-up and gazing "seductively" at the camera. On the right of the photograph is a bookcase full of titles such as Little Women and Jill and the Perfect Pony. Above it is a big poster of two cute kittens. My photographer seems to have captured the final moments of childhood.