I've never shared this before. But I think I'm finally ready to.

When I was in high school, I was dating a guy, I would say he was my first love. He was the person I lost my virginity to, he lost his with me as well.

Also, being in high school, I didn't know exactly what I wanted. I was a sophomore, my boyfriend was a sophomore. We were both very quiet and mostly kept to ourselves.

That's when I met M. He was a senior, a bad boy. The opposite of my boyfriend. He was interested in me. I thought he was hot..and I was flattered that he would even notice me.

One day, he asked me to hang out with him after school. My boyfriend was going out of town for the weekend with his family. So I said yes. I asked if we could just go to the park. He said we could. We sat on the swings and talked for an hour..then he said he wanted to bring me to his friends house.

I knew it was a bad idea, but I didn't want him to think I was an immature underclassman. So I went.

I remember sitting on the couch. I remember him trying to kiss me. Me saying no. That I had a boyfriend..that it was a bad idea. The rest is a blur. I remember being on the couch on my knees, him behind me..I remember staring down at that ugly couch waiting for it to be over.

I remember crying myself to sleep that night..and a lot of nights after that. I remember blaming myself. I should've known better. I shouldn't have put myself in that position.

I spent years blaming myself. I've spent years defining myself by what happened. I changed the story in my head to make it my fault. And if I hadn't come across the journal entry I wrote as a sophomore in high school, where I wrote everything that really happened in detail..I think I would still believe the lies I believed about myself all those years.

But the truth is, it wasn't my fault. The truth is, I am not defined by what happened. I get to choose who I get to be. I am not a bad person. I am not weak.