My blood boils. You think it will evaporate, leaving me dead and pale after all the irregular menstruation every month, but no. I exist. I still feel the anger in multi folds that I used to. Even after almost a decade now. Wow! About ten years. And it still feels like yesterday. <img class="img-responsive center-block" alt="CSA" src="/img/sexual-abuse-of-me-and-my-mind/sexual-abuse-of-me-and-my-mind-1.jpg" width=50% heigth=50% /> </br> My earliest memory of my sexual abuse is my first cousin feeling my per-pubescent chest and remarking that I don't have any breast.