why the hell it means so much to me ( i wish i knew.)
i find it amusing that i was so excited for my sister to come.
what the fuck was i thinking? seriously? i'd love to know. was i imagining some brilliantly halcyon scenario, whiling away july and the beginning of august with someone i could go swimming or walking or something with, watch movies with, shit like that?
not even close.
i conveniently forgot the reality of things: that my sister is a rebellious, angry, bitchy and overly sexually active fifteen year old who disappears for hours without telling anyone that she's going anywhere or where she's going "because if i don't tell them i'm going anywhere they can't tell me not to go", who holds late-night conversations with my thirteen-year-old cousin about the effects of sex on her vagina, about how it's gotten "beat up" and shit like that; my sister is not the broken angel creature i for some reason insist on believing she is.
i do not remember, at fourteen, fifteen or sixteen, ever being so obsessed with sneaking out with boys or so persistent in blaming my teachers for every bad mark I got, of how far I got with boys (granted, that was never and still is not very far). i don't remember it being such an absolute necessity that at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen i go out and fuck somebody.
my mother's only explanation is "you're not like other teenagers". so, what, every other teenager is obsessed with sex and disrespect? every other teenager is a smartass who makes their parents cry? really? i'm the only fucking teenager in the entire goddamned united states who doesn't?
bullshit, mom. bullshit.
i don't really care. all i know is that i feel so lost when i'm around my sister that even last night i locked myself in Du's closet and cried until I fell asleep. i feel like i must be living in a little glass box, because i know damned well kids didn't start having sex just when my sister did. they must have done it for ages, even before i was even alive (my mother was only seventeen, after all, so i'm living proof of this) and i just didn't see something that was going on all around me. which means i must be as blind and naive as it is possible to be.
that's pretty much how i feel. lost and blind as a fucking bat in a cave and no echolocation to cheat with. i can count on one hand the amount of teenagers seventeen and under that i know personally who are virgins.
whereas the ones who are not would take at least two. which in itself is pathetic.
what the fuck is wrong with these kids? what the fuck business do you have fucking at fourteen and fifteen and sixteen and seventeen and hell, maybe even eighteen?
or maybe at all.
it's not like age can honestly always determine whether you're eligible for something. there's forty year olds who shouldn't be having sex.
and I damned sure can't speak like i'm an expert.
whatever the case, i'm pretty sure the number of children between the ages of 13-17...hell, and the younger ones, because some of them are doing it too-- who are honestly emotionally, mentally, and financially prepared for sex are slim to none.
Inversely proportionate, of course, to the number who are having it anyway.
and in the middle of it all is me:
A) inexplicably angry at them all (damned near splitting apart from the degree of hatred/disgust I feel toward so many of them, in fact),
B) confused about how i feel about sex myself,
C) confused about why i even give a shit when i used to believe it didn't matter how old you were so long as you thought you were ready yourself [and indeed, what the fuck was I thinking to have ever thought that?], and
D) confused about why i changed my mind about sex [though i'm fairly certain it came with the discovery that my fourteen year old sister was sexually active and continues to be, and is completely unrepentent, unsafe and unrelenting about it).
i can't tell whether i'm becoming a prude or harboring some bizarre psychological problem concerning sex, or overreacting to the news of my sister's two-year-running not-a-virgin status or something else entirely or some combination of these.
i do know that i have never quite understood the phrase "murderous rage", at least until the first time sarah told me about having sex, and then her subsequent stories of watching porn and acting out scenes with her friends, then of having sex with people, then of threesomes and prostitutes (and the ongoing porn watching).
sarah is seventeen.
sometimes i want to slit her throat. it would probably make more sense to want to chain her in a closet and leave her there so she couldn't have sex anymore but my first instinct when angered is that-- to want to slit throats.
and i have wanted to slit her throat so many times, to hold her in my arms and not let her go so many times.
and then there are times where she mentions something sexual she did and i freeze and don't speak anymore until she hangs up on me and i cry.
when i asked her one night if she had ever gotten tested her response was "I don't have any fucking STDs". i sent her an email later begging her to be safer and she laughed at me.
i cried again.
apparently it's not that i can't cry. it's just that i have to be very, very angry in order to cry. platonic affection vs. romantic affection, then, apparently not the only emotional situation i confuse for something else.
I'm not even sure what I'm talking about anymore. All I know is that I'm angry as hell and I'm confused and lost and want to slap the shit out of my sister and kick every girl under the age of eighteen who isn't a virgin square in her cunt.
what I'd do to the boys I'm not sure at all.
probably nothing, since this thing about sex also has something to do with the way i watch women use it against men and other women.
so i suppose, indirectly, it has something to do with my aunts and cousins and the semi-misogynistic mentality i've developed as a result of living with and around them.
whatever.
i am beginning to wish i could either kill myself or disappear to another world where the whole point of life wasn't getting married and having children because for one thing marriage is bullshit and for another i fucking hate pregnancy, pregnant women, childbirth, children and domestic life.
except for the children and pregnant women that I don't hate.
okay, let me rephrase.
I hate the IDEA of pregnancy and childbirth and pregnant women and chilbirth and children and domestic life and how much importance society places on those things and how fucking stupid people act about them.
maybe i hate society.
Do I?
I don't know if I do. Who knows?
I forgot about this and I'm calmer now so I'll stop writing. And continue watching my sister talk on the house phone to some boy who isn't her boyfriend even though my mother and I both told her that this phone does not have long distance which means if whoever she's talking to doesn't live in the 281 area (and this I highly doubt) then she's running up a bill my mother can't afford.
I am developing a violent dislike of spoiled brats in addition to that of teenage girls.
Yet another bad feeling initiated by my sister.
what the fuck was i thinking? seriously? i'd love to know. was i imagining some brilliantly halcyon scenario, whiling away july and the beginning of august with someone i could go swimming or walking or something with, watch movies with, shit like that?
not even close.
i conveniently forgot the reality of things: that my sister is a rebellious, angry, bitchy and overly sexually active fifteen year old who disappears for hours without telling anyone that she's going anywhere or where she's going "because if i don't tell them i'm going anywhere they can't tell me not to go", who holds late-night conversations with my thirteen-year-old cousin about the effects of sex on her vagina, about how it's gotten "beat up" and shit like that; my sister is not the broken angel creature i for some reason insist on believing she is.
i do not remember, at fourteen, fifteen or sixteen, ever being so obsessed with sneaking out with boys or so persistent in blaming my teachers for every bad mark I got, of how far I got with boys (granted, that was never and still is not very far). i don't remember it being such an absolute necessity that at fourteen, fifteen, sixteen i go out and fuck somebody.
my mother's only explanation is "you're not like other teenagers". so, what, every other teenager is obsessed with sex and disrespect? every other teenager is a smartass who makes their parents cry? really? i'm the only fucking teenager in the entire goddamned united states who doesn't?
bullshit, mom. bullshit.
i don't really care. all i know is that i feel so lost when i'm around my sister that even last night i locked myself in Du's closet and cried until I fell asleep. i feel like i must be living in a little glass box, because i know damned well kids didn't start having sex just when my sister did. they must have done it for ages, even before i was even alive (my mother was only seventeen, after all, so i'm living proof of this) and i just didn't see something that was going on all around me. which means i must be as blind and naive as it is possible to be.
that's pretty much how i feel. lost and blind as a fucking bat in a cave and no echolocation to cheat with. i can count on one hand the amount of teenagers seventeen and under that i know personally who are virgins.
whereas the ones who are not would take at least two. which in itself is pathetic.
what the fuck is wrong with these kids? what the fuck business do you have fucking at fourteen and fifteen and sixteen and seventeen and hell, maybe even eighteen?
or maybe at all.
it's not like age can honestly always determine whether you're eligible for something. there's forty year olds who shouldn't be having sex.
and I damned sure can't speak like i'm an expert.
whatever the case, i'm pretty sure the number of children between the ages of 13-17...hell, and the younger ones, because some of them are doing it too-- who are honestly emotionally, mentally, and financially prepared for sex are slim to none.
Inversely proportionate, of course, to the number who are having it anyway.
and in the middle of it all is me:
A) inexplicably angry at them all (damned near splitting apart from the degree of hatred/disgust I feel toward so many of them, in fact),
B) confused about how i feel about sex myself,
C) confused about why i even give a shit when i used to believe it didn't matter how old you were so long as you thought you were ready yourself [and indeed, what the fuck was I thinking to have ever thought that?], and
D) confused about why i changed my mind about sex [though i'm fairly certain it came with the discovery that my fourteen year old sister was sexually active and continues to be, and is completely unrepentent, unsafe and unrelenting about it).
i can't tell whether i'm becoming a prude or harboring some bizarre psychological problem concerning sex, or overreacting to the news of my sister's two-year-running not-a-virgin status or something else entirely or some combination of these.
i do know that i have never quite understood the phrase "murderous rage", at least until the first time sarah told me about having sex, and then her subsequent stories of watching porn and acting out scenes with her friends, then of having sex with people, then of threesomes and prostitutes (and the ongoing porn watching).
sarah is seventeen.
sometimes i want to slit her throat. it would probably make more sense to want to chain her in a closet and leave her there so she couldn't have sex anymore but my first instinct when angered is that-- to want to slit throats.
and i have wanted to slit her throat so many times, to hold her in my arms and not let her go so many times.
and then there are times where she mentions something sexual she did and i freeze and don't speak anymore until she hangs up on me and i cry.
when i asked her one night if she had ever gotten tested her response was "I don't have any fucking STDs". i sent her an email later begging her to be safer and she laughed at me.
i cried again.
apparently it's not that i can't cry. it's just that i have to be very, very angry in order to cry. platonic affection vs. romantic affection, then, apparently not the only emotional situation i confuse for something else.
I'm not even sure what I'm talking about anymore. All I know is that I'm angry as hell and I'm confused and lost and want to slap the shit out of my sister and kick every girl under the age of eighteen who isn't a virgin square in her cunt.
what I'd do to the boys I'm not sure at all.
probably nothing, since this thing about sex also has something to do with the way i watch women use it against men and other women.
so i suppose, indirectly, it has something to do with my aunts and cousins and the semi-misogynistic mentality i've developed as a result of living with and around them.
whatever.
i am beginning to wish i could either kill myself or disappear to another world where the whole point of life wasn't getting married and having children because for one thing marriage is bullshit and for another i fucking hate pregnancy, pregnant women, childbirth, children and domestic life.
except for the children and pregnant women that I don't hate.
okay, let me rephrase.
I hate the IDEA of pregnancy and childbirth and pregnant women and chilbirth and children and domestic life and how much importance society places on those things and how fucking stupid people act about them.
maybe i hate society.
Do I?
I don't know if I do. Who knows?
I forgot about this and I'm calmer now so I'll stop writing. And continue watching my sister talk on the house phone to some boy who isn't her boyfriend even though my mother and I both told her that this phone does not have long distance which means if whoever she's talking to doesn't live in the 281 area (and this I highly doubt) then she's running up a bill my mother can't afford.
I am developing a violent dislike of spoiled brats in addition to that of teenage girls.
Yet another bad feeling initiated by my sister.