My semen could probably answer me.
The hand of that adult that touched my face is still clearly etched in my memory, as if the past continues to haunt me, right before my eyes. I try to force myself to sleep so that the image of the past will fade away, but no matter how hard I try, it never seems to disappear. So, I wake up and ask myself what I should do. What kind of adult am I going to become in the future?
