First, I apologize for this post being so long. I'm not quite sure where to start so I am just going to start from the beginning. 

I experienced my very first heart break when I was a sophomore in high school. I was infatuated with my cousin's best friend ever since I met him 2 summers prior to my sophomore year. We did have feelings for each other but due to us living in separate counties, we only saw each other when I would come to my aunts house during summer break. Going into my sophomore year I struggled with severe depression and suicidal thoughts and at one point I had actually planned out my suicide. 

It wasn't until halfway through my junior year that we got back in contact and became friends again. That summer before my senior year, we hung out twice. The first time we went to the mall everything was cool. It wasn't weird or anything. The second time we went to the mall was a week before school started and while we were there, he kept trying to corner me in the back of the stores and would press his body against me. Or he would try to get behind me and put his arms around my waist only to grind against me.  Every time he would do that, I would kindly push him away and try to put space between us and try not to upset him or make it awkward by just laughing it off. When we got back to my house, we were sitting on opposite sides of the couch and he kept throwing stuff like paper at me to tease me knowing I would come over there to hit his arm or something. But when I got to his side, he pinned me down and tried to kiss me. At first I wouldn't let him but I eventually gave in thinking that he would get off of me once I did. Instead, it turned into my first make out secession. Then he started rubbing me through my leggings. (Mind you, I've never done any of this before). I didn't feel 100% comfortable with him touching me and if I am to be honest, I didn't want him to. I was too scared of upsetting him by saying no and pushing him off, so instead I just kept moving his hand away from me. I guess he didn't get the hint because he put his hand down my leggings and started rubbing me through my panties and he tried to take it further but I would grab his hand before he did so. I figured that maybe if I get on top, he won't be able to touch me and we could only make out. Sadly, that didn't last long and he flipped us and had me pinned again. This time he was only rubbing me through my leggings and I was so scared something more would happen. Luckily, my little sister walked into the living room and he quickly got off of me and left. That was the last time I ever saw him.

The thing that messes with my mind is that it felt good. In my mind, I wasn't ok with him touching me but my body was responding positively to it. I had myself convinced all year that I must have wanted it because it felt good. I know in my heart that I did not want him to touch me but I can't seem to accept that technically I had been molested. That is such a heavy word and even as I'm typing this, I feel so disgusting just thinking about accepting that I was molested. Is it bad that almost a year and a half later, I still have a hard time accepting it?