I may have had the closest thing to sex in my life thus far. It was pretty much a nonevent as far as these things could go. I'm thankful for that. To be completely honest, I can't even tell if something is in my vagina most of the time, so I couldn't actually tell you whether I had sex or not. Boyfriend seems to think so. So let him make the call. He knows more about these things than I do.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Sunday, August 18, 2013
The really important kind of freedom involves attention, and awareness, and discipline, and effort, and being able truly to care about other people and to sacrifice for them, over and over, in myriad petty little unsexy ways, every day.
You know, I think of myself as a kind and forgiving person. A person who doesn't like conflict, a person who is honest, forthright,tries to do the right thing. I'd like to think that i'd absorb the sins of the world if it made everybody feel better.
But you know, sometimes, sometimes its just way more than I could reasonably handle. Way more than could be reasonably forgiven, reasonably swept under the rug, reasonably swallowed. I didn't ask to be born you know, just like I didn't ask for the childhood trauma that made me be the way I am, I didn't ask for my dog to be so messed up, for four of my family members to die, I didn't ask for the depression, the ocd, the anxiety, I didn't ask to be here. I didn't ask for you to hurt me the way you did. I didn't ask for that. I wouldn't ask for your forgiveness if I misstep like that in my life. I didn't ask for that.
I didn't ask to be a sad sad person who just takes and takes it. I can't be anything more than myself. I really just can't. So why, why is it never enough? When do I get to be good enough, strong enough, sexy enough? When do the tears stop? When does it get better?
Happy fucking birthday to me. Happy birthday you stupid piece of shit. You will struggle. You will open your eyes and walk your tired stupid sad self to your stupid piece of shit job and you will do it again and again and again. And you will do that because you are alive and breathing. You hurt because you live. So live for those who can't. Even if you hate yourself. Live and loathe.
But you know, sometimes, sometimes its just way more than I could reasonably handle. Way more than could be reasonably forgiven, reasonably swept under the rug, reasonably swallowed. I didn't ask to be born you know, just like I didn't ask for the childhood trauma that made me be the way I am, I didn't ask for my dog to be so messed up, for four of my family members to die, I didn't ask for the depression, the ocd, the anxiety, I didn't ask to be here. I didn't ask for you to hurt me the way you did. I didn't ask for that. I wouldn't ask for your forgiveness if I misstep like that in my life. I didn't ask for that.
I didn't ask to be a sad sad person who just takes and takes it. I can't be anything more than myself. I really just can't. So why, why is it never enough? When do I get to be good enough, strong enough, sexy enough? When do the tears stop? When does it get better?
Happy fucking birthday to me. Happy birthday you stupid piece of shit. You will struggle. You will open your eyes and walk your tired stupid sad self to your stupid piece of shit job and you will do it again and again and again. And you will do that because you are alive and breathing. You hurt because you live. So live for those who can't. Even if you hate yourself. Live and loathe.
Wednesday, August 7, 2013
Why am I suddenly following my own blog?
"Good porn is like good music. It's out there, but more often than not, you have to go looking or you'll end up with something repulsive you can't get out of your head."
Comment from last weeks Savage Love
Comment from last weeks Savage Love
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