Content warning – sexual content, assault, alcohol use

I am whole and I have no missing pieces.

When I was 14, on a Monday with no school, “watching” Lord of the Rings for the first time, and felt someone else’s fingers on my lips, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 16, in a diabetics basement, after losing miserably at phase 10 yet again, and I felt someone else’s pleasure in my mouth, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 17, in previously soaked clothes, having been rained out of the amusement park and split a bottle of rum, and I felt the joy of going without latex, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 18, in a drunken stupor, left without a prom date, and I felt the pain of waking up knowing someone did not ask for my permission, I did not give away a piece of myself

When I was 19, in the anonymity of the internet, falling head over heals for silver-tongued bastard and making sure they knew it with the videos I kept coming, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 20, in the spirit of “when in Rome”, drunk on the attention of the bartenders at the Irish pub, I let an art teacher tell me all about the Fontana dei Fiumi, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 21, in the depths of a beer glass, being thanked in bourbon aged beer for waiting until I was “of age” to visit, and I watched my reflection shake in a mirror hung on antique wallpaper, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 22, in an especially humid summer, writing a cover letter every week only to be ignored, and I was comforted by a face and more between my thighs, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 23, in the witch city, judging all of the Mai Tai’s I could get my hands on with a person I could kiss for hours, and I decided to enjoy a different drink in the back seat of their car on a Thursday night, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 24, in the full view of George Washington and the public, on a particularly hazy evening, and I couldn’t tear my gaze away from a cherub’s eyes to enjoy the fog in the garden, I did not give away a piece of myself.

When I was 25, on a stage with a spectator sketching my bound form, a protective sheet of plastic beneath me, and I shouted yes please until I couldn’t anymore, I did not give away a piece of myself.

I am whole and I have no missing pieces.