It's been nearly a decade since I first started masturbating in fourth grade. These eight years of compulsive behavior and their consequences have plunged my life into darkness. I share my story here as a cautionary tale.

By fifth grade, my habit intensified to weekly or biweekly sessions. The first time I ejaculated, panic gripped me—I abstained for months out of fear. But curiosity drew me back, accompanied by increasingly frequent porn consumption. Despite this, I managed decent grades through elementary school.

Middle school began promisingly. I paid attention in class and maintained average performance, though my memory noticeably deteriorated—memorizing short texts took excruciating effort. Then came the turning point: Health Education class. The textbook's "moderate masturbation is harmless" message became my license for self-destruction. Frequency escalated to daily sessions, sometimes multiple times a day. My grades crashed to bottom-tier by seventh grade finals.

A brief recovery in eighth grade (ranking top 20) earned teacher encouragement, but the praise backfired. Relapse followed, dooming my academic future. Teachers predicted I'd fail high school entrance exams—a prophecy fulfilled.

The post-graduation summer became my personal hell. Isolated at home with endless masturbation, I developed severe depression triggered by AIDS phobia. Mysterious rashes and itching convinced me I'd contracted HIV through a childhood acupuncture incident. For two months, I cycled between obsessive online research, homicidal rage toward the classmate involved, and suicidal ideation. The urge to jump from buildings haunted me constantly.