This could possibly be triggering, but I don't mean it to be.
When it first happened, I felt all my dreams end. The blood, the pain - the death of a boy. I can't describe in words that day - just that I sat on my folks' bed, the 11 year old me, knowing the world was over. Forever. Mother had given me a pad. it felt like a diaper and my humiliation was complete. Death had come and stole all my dreams.
But blood is blood. And blood is life. And ultimately, fascinating. Blood. Pads. Tampons.
As with everything a body gets used to, I got used to the cycle. Somewhat irregular. But it happened. Usually 3 days a month. There was a warmth in my belly. And a smell in my underwear. A smell I can't say was unpleasant. It was warm and irony. Blood. Red and brown. Sometimes black. Liquid or clumps. But warm. My stomach was warm. I craved chocolate. Masturbation relieved any cramps.
If I said I didn't miss it, it would be a lie. Sure, it was messy. And I was extremely dysphoric about it as a child. But it was also warm. Smelly. Gory.