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Show house/ 371 In my mind, I was only defending myself. This rationalization failed to ward off guilt over my un-Christian behavior, however, and shame rolled in - one dark wave after another joining with the blackened waters of my consciousness. There were a few boys who saw something shining in me - perhaps only a reflection of their own integrity, or perhaps an afterglow of my original happiness - the intelligence that my eyepencils did not totally dim or the refinement of my religious upbringing. With these who wished to respect me, I was perhaps most abusive . While they represented no physical threat, my sense of spiritual foreboding was overwhelming. I believed they would condemn, once they really knew me, as my father had done. When I refused their affection or any serious involvement, I told myself I was being kind. If only you knew me, I thought, as I ducked behind my mother's screen door and wished them goodbye. The very stability which made them earnest and of pure intent threatened my mask of being well-adjusted. If these good boys got close enough, I felt sure they would recognize the fraud. Given the acid test) of intimacy, I felt sure my goldeness would turn green. And then there were those who had gone green themselves, those who hated women but hid their hatred behind a mask of love, engaging in psychophysical struggles with women to assert their superiority, to bury their inferiority. While I then understood nothing of these psycho-dynamics, I was compelled toward them as toward the wolf-rapist. I felt myself to be the perfect mirror of their sickness. Moreover, I wanted to |