I spent this past weekend at a friend's house along with a few other guests. Our main goal was to spend all of Saturday at the water park having fun and getting a nice tan. At least I accomplished both. No one else got a tan besides me, well actually it's not a tan yet...but it will be. The day started bright and early which promised that I would be a bitch at some point in the day since I am absolutely not a morning person. I'm not even a late morning person, I'm an afternoon/evening type of girl at best, and even then I'm still a bitch. We got to the water park at around 10:30 am, just a half hour after it opens for the day and it was already packed. I saw little children running around barefoot and looked down at my pedicured toes in horror at the immediate danger of contagious warts and other foot fungi that had to be lurking around here somewhere, most likely everywhere. I took a deep breath and ventured forward with my buddies to find a place to set our stuff. We found a spot in the grass and staked our claim. My first move was to the lazy river. There really isn't anything quite like a lazy river. You get to tan, refresh, and lounge in a nice, flowing water of gorgeousness. Unfortunately, a few little snots tried their damned best to ruin my lazy river excursion. There I was, ass fitted into the tube, lazily checking out the lifeguards when these three little fuckers came up behind me, causing me to spin around. I contained myself because I thought, well they just got to the water park, they're excited....and they're children....children..should not yell at children... I took another lap in the lazy river to calm myself when I heard the same little bastards yelp and splash. Jesus fucking Christ, it's too fucking early for me to deal with children. This time they weren't even in the tube, they were running with the tube under their armpits. They got right in front of me and I sighed with relief until I got a mouthful of water when the fuckers started kicking their legs and splashing around. My friends were laughing because I was getting visibly pissed. I contained myself, however. I'm very proud for not dunking those fuckers and I think God was watching me and nodding with approval as I got out of the lazy river.
Next was the wave pool. Wave pools are fun because it's like you have the fun of the ocean or nice lake without all the sharks or dead fish. I went in with three of my friends and we giggled like school girls on the last day of school as the waves started to slap over us. That's when I felt it. It felt like slime with pubic hair as I gasped in horror. I saw my friend's eyes bulge and look beyond me. I turned around to see a very large man, about 55-65, hairy as an ape, brushing against me. Oh dear Lord!! If I get penetrated in any way, shape, or form I'm gonna be pissssssssssed. My friends and I swam away to deeper water hoping to avoid the large, hairy man. We weren't very successful. While swimming/trying to stay above the 6 foot waves, two little girls swam in front of me, cutting me off from my friends like they were driving on Lake Shore Drive during rush hour. Yet again, I contained myself. They're just trying to stay alive, like you. I caught up with my friends as I struggled to doggie paddle my way to the side of the gigantic pool. We were holding onto a ladder laughing about the hairy man and insane amount of people who should not being wearing bikinis. I heard a whistle's chirp, so I looked around hoping to see some drama, like maybe hairy man being escorted out of the water park. It wasn't; disappointing, I know. This chick lifeguard who looked like she drank about 7 protein shakes a day yelled something in my direction. I tilted my head like a dog because I couldn't hear what the fuck she was saying. She stomped over to me and I almost peed my pants. "Get off the ladder! No holding the ladder!" SheMan yelled at me.
By this time I was feeling pretty mean. You understand right? Between seeing kids prance around with their nasty feet all over, hairy man trying to anally rape me, SheMan giving me a warning that almost made me shit myself, and water up my nose, I lost control of my short leash on my meanness. I needed a fruity treat or alcohol. There was none to be had. I bit my lip and vowed to stick it out for the sake of my friends' good time. I mean they had a water roller coaster somewhere, so it couldn't be all bad.
At the end of the day, several more incidents, and lunch, I was eager to get back to my friend's house. But I did learn my lesson. These commercial water parks are not for adults, they are for kids and people who have kids. Adult water parks take the form of places like hot tubs, and "romantic" retreats like Sybaris. From now on, I'm going to designate places that are "kid-friendly" as a no go for me..at least for now. If I have to hear one more mom shout out for their precious little child eight times in a row, I'm gonna have a real bitch fit and it ain't gonna be pretty.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Me and Mr. Temper
I'm feeling very nice today because I got some action, finally. Let's just say it's been awhile. I hooked up with Mr. Temper, and as you can assume from my little term of endearment, he's about 99% passion and it's amazing. I figure that as long as I stay on his good side, by good side I mean dick, that I can just get off on his passion and not so much his temper/issues.
Let's get to the juicy part. God it feels good to say that again! I've known Mr. Temper for six months or so and was instantly attracted to him. He's 6'3'', around 200lbs, dark hair, bright green eyes, muscular, and tatted up. Oh, dear lord I never had a chance with this one. He has four tattoos, one running vertically that stretches from his rib cage to just about his hip bone. Another is on his chest right, the smallest one is on the inside of his wrist, and my favorite is on his back. The tat on his back is between his shoulder blades and is now marked with scratches from my nails :). There's nothing sexier than a muscular back, is there? He's not exactly gorgeous or hot, but he's ridiculously appealing to me.
He picked me up to go see a movie (The Dark Knight, amazing, go see it. Now.) and then we went for ice cream. Real cutesy, isn't it? My mind is never that innocent. He asked if I wanted to share a cone, and usually I would say no, I mean I am female and it is ice cream, but I said okay. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty hot sharing an ice cream cone with him. I was constantly zeroing in on his tongue as he flicked it to scoop up some ice cream. I admit it, I was immediately wet and I think he knew it. It's not often that a guy can put me in a trance like that, but fuck, I liked it.
We got in his truck, still with the ice cream, and he started driving around town as we each tried to eat our ice cream as seductively as possible. And it is possible. He was trying to make a turn and lick the ice cream cone at the same time and ended up dropping some ice cream on his seat (I'm thinking that he had that planned now). We were both laughing hysterically as he pulled over into a semi-empty parking lot. I told him that it wasn't fair he got the last lick with all the suggestion and seduction that I could muster hahahha. It's not the most original line, but it worked. He smirked (smirks are fucking hot as helllllll...) and leaned in for the kiss. Thank fucking God I need action like it's nobody's business!! My pussy was twitching just at the anticipation that maybe it would be getting some attention tonight. Mr. Temper is an amazing kisser, I was getting so wet that I could faintly smell my pussy and I hoped he did, too. I took his hand and slid it down so that he could feel how wet I was. When he realized it, his eyes popped open and his mouth dropped a little. Yeah, you're my bitch now, aren't you? I totally knew I had him now. I'm pretty sure I heard him mutter a little "Jesus Christ" right then. Now I was smirking. He started biting my neck a little bit, which is fine as long as it's not a hickey. I really don't like having to come home and try to hide it from my parents, it's a little awkward.
Anyway, we tried to maneuver around in his truck comfortably, but it wasn't really happening. I was getting frustrated and, more importantly, my pussy was getting frustrated and when that happens I can get pretty testy. He asked if I wanted to go back to his place and I said hell yeah. On the ride to his house I moved closer to him and started to rub his crotch through his jeans. Sure, it's a little dangerous, but I happen to love seeing a guy fight for control. Mr. Temper gripped the wheel and muttered out a few "Fuck..fuck..fucccccck..s" before we pulled into the driveway. Mr. Temper led the way to his bedroom and shut the door before his dog could follow us in, which I appreciated because I think of my dogs as little humans, so it would have weirded m out to have his dog in there. We started kissing and fumbling around his dark room until the back of my knees hit his bed and I fell backward. I laughed and told him that I meant to do that... Yeah, I'm real smooth like that, don't worry. Being a clutz never fails me. He kind of awkwardly pulled my boobs out of my shirt. I was wearing a camisole, so he just kind of took them out of the shelfing...but whatever works. The tongue that I had been put in a trance over slid over my nipples as I ran my fingers through his hair and tried to position myself so that he could put more of his weight on the bed. (Jeez, there's a real lot of unsexy things that need to happen before sex, isn't there?) I get bored of nipple action pretty easily, so I finagled my way on top of him so that I could get to the good stuff. I ripped his shirt off in about .2 seconds. When I saw the tattoos I let out a little sigh just because it was too perfect. I ran my fingers over them and down his stomach to his belt buckle. I undid the belt and the jeans and slid off the boxers in less than 5 seconds, I think. I'm a getting naked machine. He was pretty hard already thanks to my car show so I stroked it a little more while I nibble on his neck. I nibbled, sucked, and licked my way down his stomach. I finally got to his dick and was pretty impressed. I flicked my tongue over the head of his cock and looked up at him as I started going down on him. His eyes rolled back and closed and I smiled a little to myself. I love giving head, so we kept going at it for awhile. He freaked out a little when I started to mess around with his balls, but he got used to it. I guess he never had his balls played with before or he has some really sensitive ones. I sort of let him guide me with how far he'd let me go with his balls, and he gave a few loud, throaty "Oh fucks" so I knew he liked it.
He pulled me up and we kissed again as he started to take my pants off and complimented my undies. I was wearing lacy boyshort looking ones, just in case I was getting some action tonight, and lucky enough I did. I felt my wetness on his hand as he slid it up my stomach to my boobs. He started to tongue my clit and I kept seeing the image of him eating the ice cream as I closed my eyes. I gotta remember to watch how a man eats an ice cream cone. He kept going at my clit and I told him to finger me. He seemed a little surprised when I told him that, but most guys my age are like that the first time they hear me command them or talk dirty in the sack. I'm just educating them, I should really be commended for my public services.. He knew enough to curve his fingers in me to stroke my g-spot, so kudos to him. I pulled his hair and told him to fuck me now and he obeyed. Somehow he managed to get the condom on and still finger me at the same time, or enough so that I didn't really notice when he stopped, if he did stop. He went in painfully slow. I grabbed his arm and told him to go harder, to really pound me. He got a glazed over look in his eyes as he started to pump harder. Oh, Mr. Temper is a good fuck. I think I said that aloud at one point, but I can hardly ever remember my pillow talk. We switched positions so he was nailing me from behind, which I love. I told him to pull my hair really hard as he fucked me and he wrapped it around his hand and jerked it back. When I moaned loudly he pounded harder, he obviously knew my signals. We came together, which is rare for me, so I really enjoyed it. I loved feeling his dick pulse in me. I'm not one to stick around after a session like that, so after we lay there a little while, I asked him for a lift home. I crawled into bed very satisfied and anticipating more to come.
Let's get to the juicy part. God it feels good to say that again! I've known Mr. Temper for six months or so and was instantly attracted to him. He's 6'3'', around 200lbs, dark hair, bright green eyes, muscular, and tatted up. Oh, dear lord I never had a chance with this one. He has four tattoos, one running vertically that stretches from his rib cage to just about his hip bone. Another is on his chest right, the smallest one is on the inside of his wrist, and my favorite is on his back. The tat on his back is between his shoulder blades and is now marked with scratches from my nails :). There's nothing sexier than a muscular back, is there? He's not exactly gorgeous or hot, but he's ridiculously appealing to me.
He picked me up to go see a movie (The Dark Knight, amazing, go see it. Now.) and then we went for ice cream. Real cutesy, isn't it? My mind is never that innocent. He asked if I wanted to share a cone, and usually I would say no, I mean I am female and it is ice cream, but I said okay. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty hot sharing an ice cream cone with him. I was constantly zeroing in on his tongue as he flicked it to scoop up some ice cream. I admit it, I was immediately wet and I think he knew it. It's not often that a guy can put me in a trance like that, but fuck, I liked it.
We got in his truck, still with the ice cream, and he started driving around town as we each tried to eat our ice cream as seductively as possible. And it is possible. He was trying to make a turn and lick the ice cream cone at the same time and ended up dropping some ice cream on his seat (I'm thinking that he had that planned now). We were both laughing hysterically as he pulled over into a semi-empty parking lot. I told him that it wasn't fair he got the last lick with all the suggestion and seduction that I could muster hahahha. It's not the most original line, but it worked. He smirked (smirks are fucking hot as helllllll...) and leaned in for the kiss. Thank fucking God I need action like it's nobody's business!! My pussy was twitching just at the anticipation that maybe it would be getting some attention tonight. Mr. Temper is an amazing kisser, I was getting so wet that I could faintly smell my pussy and I hoped he did, too. I took his hand and slid it down so that he could feel how wet I was. When he realized it, his eyes popped open and his mouth dropped a little. Yeah, you're my bitch now, aren't you? I totally knew I had him now. I'm pretty sure I heard him mutter a little "Jesus Christ" right then. Now I was smirking. He started biting my neck a little bit, which is fine as long as it's not a hickey. I really don't like having to come home and try to hide it from my parents, it's a little awkward.
Anyway, we tried to maneuver around in his truck comfortably, but it wasn't really happening. I was getting frustrated and, more importantly, my pussy was getting frustrated and when that happens I can get pretty testy. He asked if I wanted to go back to his place and I said hell yeah. On the ride to his house I moved closer to him and started to rub his crotch through his jeans. Sure, it's a little dangerous, but I happen to love seeing a guy fight for control. Mr. Temper gripped the wheel and muttered out a few "Fuck..fuck..fucccccck..s" before we pulled into the driveway. Mr. Temper led the way to his bedroom and shut the door before his dog could follow us in, which I appreciated because I think of my dogs as little humans, so it would have weirded m out to have his dog in there. We started kissing and fumbling around his dark room until the back of my knees hit his bed and I fell backward. I laughed and told him that I meant to do that... Yeah, I'm real smooth like that, don't worry. Being a clutz never fails me. He kind of awkwardly pulled my boobs out of my shirt. I was wearing a camisole, so he just kind of took them out of the shelfing...but whatever works. The tongue that I had been put in a trance over slid over my nipples as I ran my fingers through his hair and tried to position myself so that he could put more of his weight on the bed. (Jeez, there's a real lot of unsexy things that need to happen before sex, isn't there?) I get bored of nipple action pretty easily, so I finagled my way on top of him so that I could get to the good stuff. I ripped his shirt off in about .2 seconds. When I saw the tattoos I let out a little sigh just because it was too perfect. I ran my fingers over them and down his stomach to his belt buckle. I undid the belt and the jeans and slid off the boxers in less than 5 seconds, I think. I'm a getting naked machine. He was pretty hard already thanks to my car show so I stroked it a little more while I nibble on his neck. I nibbled, sucked, and licked my way down his stomach. I finally got to his dick and was pretty impressed. I flicked my tongue over the head of his cock and looked up at him as I started going down on him. His eyes rolled back and closed and I smiled a little to myself. I love giving head, so we kept going at it for awhile. He freaked out a little when I started to mess around with his balls, but he got used to it. I guess he never had his balls played with before or he has some really sensitive ones. I sort of let him guide me with how far he'd let me go with his balls, and he gave a few loud, throaty "Oh fucks" so I knew he liked it.
He pulled me up and we kissed again as he started to take my pants off and complimented my undies. I was wearing lacy boyshort looking ones, just in case I was getting some action tonight, and lucky enough I did. I felt my wetness on his hand as he slid it up my stomach to my boobs. He started to tongue my clit and I kept seeing the image of him eating the ice cream as I closed my eyes. I gotta remember to watch how a man eats an ice cream cone. He kept going at my clit and I told him to finger me. He seemed a little surprised when I told him that, but most guys my age are like that the first time they hear me command them or talk dirty in the sack. I'm just educating them, I should really be commended for my public services.. He knew enough to curve his fingers in me to stroke my g-spot, so kudos to him. I pulled his hair and told him to fuck me now and he obeyed. Somehow he managed to get the condom on and still finger me at the same time, or enough so that I didn't really notice when he stopped, if he did stop. He went in painfully slow. I grabbed his arm and told him to go harder, to really pound me. He got a glazed over look in his eyes as he started to pump harder. Oh, Mr. Temper is a good fuck. I think I said that aloud at one point, but I can hardly ever remember my pillow talk. We switched positions so he was nailing me from behind, which I love. I told him to pull my hair really hard as he fucked me and he wrapped it around his hand and jerked it back. When I moaned loudly he pounded harder, he obviously knew my signals. We came together, which is rare for me, so I really enjoyed it. I loved feeling his dick pulse in me. I'm not one to stick around after a session like that, so after we lay there a little while, I asked him for a lift home. I crawled into bed very satisfied and anticipating more to come.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Updates
It's been awhile since I've posted because I have actually had a life lately. This weekend my friend is having a get together at his place, so I'm excited for that. He lives about 2 1/2 hours away so I'll be staying there for the weekend. When I heard about the plans I was really excited, but then I started to think about the guest list, which includes two couples, including the host and his girlfriend, and then me. We're all mutual friends and have been since before the four got into their relationships, but now I feel a little odd about this because I will be the only one there without a significant other. Usually I don't really care about having a boyfriend for such a reason, but this time I do. I feel like I'm at the point where it's still socially acceptable to go to events like this single, but at the same time, people might think that I'm a fifth wheel or tag on, or even someone that can't get some poor son of a bitch to go with her to friendly gatherings. I'm tempted to bring a weekend date, but that would be awkward and it would fuck up the whole group dynamic or some psychoanalytical bullshit like that. Uhhhh I hate when nonsensical shit like this floats into my mind when I have already psyched myself up into having a good time. Today, it's a friend's weekend gathering, in a few years, it'll be going solo to a wedding. Life is moving a little bit too fast and I don't have anyone to drag along for the ride right now. I want someone to uncomplicate my complexities without annoying me or impeding my lifestyle the way it is right now. And now I'm hearing my mother's voice in my head saying, "Maybe you're making yourself unavailable because you don't want someone to break down your wall." Well, no fucking shit, didn't I build that wall for a reason?
God, how I hate being cliche at these moments.
God, how I hate being cliche at these moments.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Ignorance is Bliss
Sometimes I hate knowledge. I respect it and I search to gain it, but sometimes I hate it. Maybe I shouldn't say that I hate knowledge. Knowledge implants a picture of being in a college library in some people's minds and that is not what I mean, so let's say that I hate knowing. Knowing does not equal knowledge. Therefore, I sometimes hate knowing. I hate knowing that my dad had an affair. I hate that my mind instantly shoots to the moment that I found out he was having an affair when something I see, or hear, or even feel reminds me of it. I hate knowing that I couldn't fix it and that I didn't fix it. I hate knowing that there are people who are serial cheaters or people who seek people that are married to have a fling with. I hate knowing that for the rest of my life I will never be the same. I hate knowing that I will always wonder if my boyfriend, husband, lover, etc., will be capable of making me feel how my mom felt.
I found out on a Thursday in October 2006 that my dad was having an affair. I was getting ready for class when my mom called me. I had known that my parents were having trouble, but being away at school, I didn't know why or even how bad it was. After I picked up my phone my mom blurted out, "Your dad is having an affair," with a voice choked in sobs. I instantly started crying and said, "No. No, mom. No." My roommate left the room and I'm thankful that she had the presence of mind and compassion to do that. I don't remember what I did after that. I skipped my classes for the day and had my friends tell my teachers that I had a family emergency. I drove home and arrived to see my mom packing my dad's clothes into her van. I started crying again. When I walked into the house my older sister and her boyfriend were sitting at the kitchen table. My sister and I talked but I don't remember what was said. The phone rang and my sister answered. It was the cunt that was sleeping with my dad. I couldn't believe that she had the audacity to call my house. The house that my dad and grandpa built, where my mom gardens, where my little sister sleeps, where our dogs play, I couldn't believe that fucking bitch. I saw red and I grabbed the phone out of my sister's hand. The bitch thought I was my mom and I replied, "My mom can't come to the phone right now, she's too fucking upset." Cunt replied, "Let me talk to her, I want to tell her that I didn't do anything wrong and that nothing happened." This pissed me off. Calling my house was doing something wrong. Knowing that she knew the number to my house was wrong. "No, you can't talk to my mom. I've never called anyone a cunt in malice ever before in my life so I hope you're happy that you're the first one that has made me stoop this low. Don't ever call my fucking house ever again you fucking whore," I said that so quick that I didn't have time to think about what I was saying. I saw the grief in my mom's eyes as she walked to the door. I heard a smirk on the phone. To this day, I can't explain how I heard a smirk, but I did. She laughed at me. She heard me cry and laugh. She told me that she didn't deserve to be talked to like this and she laughed at me. If I saw her at that moment there is no doubt in my mind that I would have tried to kill her. The mixture of anger, heartbreak, and grief would have put me over the edge and I'm not sure that I could have stopped myself if I saw her. Knowing that scares me.
I never cried so much as I did in that first week after I found out. I was practically attached to my mom's hip that first night because I saw the pain in her eyes and the numb look on her face. I thought she was going to kill herself. I hated my dad that night. I fell asleep crying and woke up scared that I was too late, thinking that either my mom had killed herself or that she left. I walked downstairs to find my mom lying on the couch. Her eyes were open and I stopped walking. I began crying again as I moved closer; I couldn't see her breathing. In that instant, I felt a pain so deep that it felt like a knife lit on fire was piercing my heart and my gut at the same time. I leaned over her, and she spoke. I cried harder in relief.
This day happened almost two years ago and it still hurts to think about it. It's odd that something that another person did had such an affect on my life. I don't look at my parents the same way. I don't look at love or marriage or sex or fidelity the same way. I see the long, red marks on my mom's arms sometimes and know that she is a cutter. I look down on my hand to the short, jaded scar that signifies my first cutting experience. For some reason, I think we both know that we cut. I don't cut anymore, nor was it ever a fraction as serious as my mom's cutting was. To be honest, I only cut when I was really upset about my parents and the situation. I have cut a total of around ten times in my life. I don't label myself a cutter, nor does anyone know I cut. But, I understand the thought process behind cutting. Again, this is another instance of hating knowing; I hate knowing that I understand cutters. Cutters cut because they feel so much emotional pain that they cannot handle it, so they choose to expel the emotional pain via physical pain. The relief is too brief for me, which is why I never became a "cutter." My vehicle of cutting was sometimes a steak knife and sometimes a razor. The razor was easier, but less pain. It produced more blood, but there wasn't enough pain to distract my mind. The steak knife didn't work either. The ridges made it hurt alot, which was good, but it was hard to produce blood. I wanted to be able to soak up a lot of blood on toilet paper and then flush it away to signify the emotional pain evaporating in myself. I understand cutters.
When you're a kid, all you want to do is grow up and do "adult" things. It's funny that the only mature things that kids think adults do is smoke, drink, drive, have money, etc. Hell, if I knew then what I know now, I would have slowed down and taken my childhood a lot less for granted. When you're an adult, all you want to do is go back to being a child so that you don't feel as much responsibility or obligation. I want to go back to being a child so that I'm ignorant of just one incident that changed me, just one.
I found out on a Thursday in October 2006 that my dad was having an affair. I was getting ready for class when my mom called me. I had known that my parents were having trouble, but being away at school, I didn't know why or even how bad it was. After I picked up my phone my mom blurted out, "Your dad is having an affair," with a voice choked in sobs. I instantly started crying and said, "No. No, mom. No." My roommate left the room and I'm thankful that she had the presence of mind and compassion to do that. I don't remember what I did after that. I skipped my classes for the day and had my friends tell my teachers that I had a family emergency. I drove home and arrived to see my mom packing my dad's clothes into her van. I started crying again. When I walked into the house my older sister and her boyfriend were sitting at the kitchen table. My sister and I talked but I don't remember what was said. The phone rang and my sister answered. It was the cunt that was sleeping with my dad. I couldn't believe that she had the audacity to call my house. The house that my dad and grandpa built, where my mom gardens, where my little sister sleeps, where our dogs play, I couldn't believe that fucking bitch. I saw red and I grabbed the phone out of my sister's hand. The bitch thought I was my mom and I replied, "My mom can't come to the phone right now, she's too fucking upset." Cunt replied, "Let me talk to her, I want to tell her that I didn't do anything wrong and that nothing happened." This pissed me off. Calling my house was doing something wrong. Knowing that she knew the number to my house was wrong. "No, you can't talk to my mom. I've never called anyone a cunt in malice ever before in my life so I hope you're happy that you're the first one that has made me stoop this low. Don't ever call my fucking house ever again you fucking whore," I said that so quick that I didn't have time to think about what I was saying. I saw the grief in my mom's eyes as she walked to the door. I heard a smirk on the phone. To this day, I can't explain how I heard a smirk, but I did. She laughed at me. She heard me cry and laugh. She told me that she didn't deserve to be talked to like this and she laughed at me. If I saw her at that moment there is no doubt in my mind that I would have tried to kill her. The mixture of anger, heartbreak, and grief would have put me over the edge and I'm not sure that I could have stopped myself if I saw her. Knowing that scares me.
I never cried so much as I did in that first week after I found out. I was practically attached to my mom's hip that first night because I saw the pain in her eyes and the numb look on her face. I thought she was going to kill herself. I hated my dad that night. I fell asleep crying and woke up scared that I was too late, thinking that either my mom had killed herself or that she left. I walked downstairs to find my mom lying on the couch. Her eyes were open and I stopped walking. I began crying again as I moved closer; I couldn't see her breathing. In that instant, I felt a pain so deep that it felt like a knife lit on fire was piercing my heart and my gut at the same time. I leaned over her, and she spoke. I cried harder in relief.
This day happened almost two years ago and it still hurts to think about it. It's odd that something that another person did had such an affect on my life. I don't look at my parents the same way. I don't look at love or marriage or sex or fidelity the same way. I see the long, red marks on my mom's arms sometimes and know that she is a cutter. I look down on my hand to the short, jaded scar that signifies my first cutting experience. For some reason, I think we both know that we cut. I don't cut anymore, nor was it ever a fraction as serious as my mom's cutting was. To be honest, I only cut when I was really upset about my parents and the situation. I have cut a total of around ten times in my life. I don't label myself a cutter, nor does anyone know I cut. But, I understand the thought process behind cutting. Again, this is another instance of hating knowing; I hate knowing that I understand cutters. Cutters cut because they feel so much emotional pain that they cannot handle it, so they choose to expel the emotional pain via physical pain. The relief is too brief for me, which is why I never became a "cutter." My vehicle of cutting was sometimes a steak knife and sometimes a razor. The razor was easier, but less pain. It produced more blood, but there wasn't enough pain to distract my mind. The steak knife didn't work either. The ridges made it hurt alot, which was good, but it was hard to produce blood. I wanted to be able to soak up a lot of blood on toilet paper and then flush it away to signify the emotional pain evaporating in myself. I understand cutters.
When you're a kid, all you want to do is grow up and do "adult" things. It's funny that the only mature things that kids think adults do is smoke, drink, drive, have money, etc. Hell, if I knew then what I know now, I would have slowed down and taken my childhood a lot less for granted. When you're an adult, all you want to do is go back to being a child so that you don't feel as much responsibility or obligation. I want to go back to being a child so that I'm ignorant of just one incident that changed me, just one.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
I need it.
Would it be outrageous to ask my parents for a significant amount of money, say $200?.....to buy lingerie?? I really want this corset that I saw at Frederick's of Hollywood. It's not $200, but I also liked these great pair of fuck me pumps that just scream for me to buy them. I also want another vibrator. Or at least better batteries for the one I have now. So, add all those up, plus gas/shipping money, we're probably close to $200. I'm not quite sure how I'd ask for $200 though, that's the problem. I blame my predicament on the economy. I applied to seven places and haven't been hired at any. This is the cause of my woes. When I get back to school, I'll go back to my old job, but I really need that new vibrator. Or at least new batteries. After using a vibrator, it just isn't as satisfying if you have to do it manually. Once again, this wouldn't be a problem if Dumbass (see previous posts) would just get over himself and fuck me already. I'm constantly super wet and I feel like my pussy is starting to turn into a bitch because she's not getting any. I mean, it's not like I blame her. She deserves to get worshiped and love and pleasured and tongued, and ......and you see what I mean. Sometimes I want to wear a sign on my head that says "Will fuck clean, decent, STD free human male." Because I would. And there's really no mistaking that blatant statement is there?
So, I will end this post, unsatisfied and without money to buy sexual necessities.
So, I will end this post, unsatisfied and without money to buy sexual necessities.
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