when we get back i'll drop a line
God Terri Clark was awesome. I just wanted to leap up on that stage and fuck her senseless. Sigh, but I didn't. I would have been kicked out I suppose. Anyway I bought a beanie tonight. It's pink. I guess it's alright, I don't really know what I was thinking though.
An interesting fact, maybe only to me, is that I suddenly don't feel the need to censor myself anymore. Previously I would write and if I found it offensive or embarrassing in any way I'd ditch it. I don't do that now. Makes a big difference. Makes me use NIGGAAAAAAAAA a lot though. What can I say? By pretending to be African-American perhaps I will feel more at home with my bootie. Or something like that. Unless of course I'm really identifying as Fifteen Year Old Boy. It may explain my excessive anger. And my gender dysphoria. but whatever. I had coffee with Heathie last night which was completely hilarious from start to finish, speaking of gender dysphoria. I was supposed to go to coffee tonight but my sister called me so I couldn't, speaking of gender dysphoria. I wanted to drink today, badly. From the minute I got up. So I didn't. Because I'm too angry, and when I drink I can't hide it. Anyway that's kind of boring. We had another fight last night. I don't even remember it, or what it was about. I just get to the point sometimes where I can't even think straight. I get so filled with filthy black self-loathing. It's a little hard for me to describe actually, I might not bother. As a person who rarely gives in to typical female stereotypes and acts like a spaz, I feel very unattractive lately. And I would like to cut little sections of myself out. Little tiny pieces, so small that you can't notice them, until one day I'm just not there anymore. Anyway I guess that's kind of boring too. It's never going to be like it used to. That's the problem with most things I guess. Damn kids, got not respect. Things ain't what they used to be. But nothing is anymore. And that worries me, to the point of distraction. Because how can things be like they used to be if things aren't like they used to be. And so on. In a way I guess it frightens me, not that I like admitting it. My heart still beats faster. But then it breaks. I guess I'm not understanding enough. I think that a lot. But sometimes I think I'm just sitting around waiting to die. Because there's nothing else. I live for someone, and she lives for me. And that's an enormous mind-fuck for a person like myself, who doesn't really expect anything to be reciprocated, ever. I still get freaked out that I have friends who love me. When I was sitting with Heath last night talking about all the things we were talking about, I just kept thinking 'My god this is so weird that someone would actually take the time to catch up with me.' I know I'm lucky, I think that every day. But knowing something and believing something are way too different. So it's hard to explain how my heart breaks, like it used to back in the old days. I guess I'm just too sensitive as well as not being understanding. But I get annoyed, which is immature I suppose. I took a leap, I jumped in. I put everything in a basket called Trust and hoped for the best. In a way it worked out well. And in a way it didn't.
I've been reading and thinking. I guess I am just a fucking arsehole without a shred of compassion. Maybe if I wasn't such a relentless prick... If I keep thinking about it I'm going to have a fit. At heart I suppose I'm just so ashamed of myself that I can't see reason. Or something.
An interesting fact, maybe only to me, is that I suddenly don't feel the need to censor myself anymore. Previously I would write and if I found it offensive or embarrassing in any way I'd ditch it. I don't do that now. Makes a big difference. Makes me use NIGGAAAAAAAAA a lot though. What can I say? By pretending to be African-American perhaps I will feel more at home with my bootie. Or something like that. Unless of course I'm really identifying as Fifteen Year Old Boy. It may explain my excessive anger. And my gender dysphoria. but whatever. I had coffee with Heathie last night which was completely hilarious from start to finish, speaking of gender dysphoria. I was supposed to go to coffee tonight but my sister called me so I couldn't, speaking of gender dysphoria. I wanted to drink today, badly. From the minute I got up. So I didn't. Because I'm too angry, and when I drink I can't hide it. Anyway that's kind of boring. We had another fight last night. I don't even remember it, or what it was about. I just get to the point sometimes where I can't even think straight. I get so filled with filthy black self-loathing. It's a little hard for me to describe actually, I might not bother. As a person who rarely gives in to typical female stereotypes and acts like a spaz, I feel very unattractive lately. And I would like to cut little sections of myself out. Little tiny pieces, so small that you can't notice them, until one day I'm just not there anymore. Anyway I guess that's kind of boring too. It's never going to be like it used to. That's the problem with most things I guess. Damn kids, got not respect. Things ain't what they used to be. But nothing is anymore. And that worries me, to the point of distraction. Because how can things be like they used to be if things aren't like they used to be. And so on. In a way I guess it frightens me, not that I like admitting it. My heart still beats faster. But then it breaks. I guess I'm not understanding enough. I think that a lot. But sometimes I think I'm just sitting around waiting to die. Because there's nothing else. I live for someone, and she lives for me. And that's an enormous mind-fuck for a person like myself, who doesn't really expect anything to be reciprocated, ever. I still get freaked out that I have friends who love me. When I was sitting with Heath last night talking about all the things we were talking about, I just kept thinking 'My god this is so weird that someone would actually take the time to catch up with me.' I know I'm lucky, I think that every day. But knowing something and believing something are way too different. So it's hard to explain how my heart breaks, like it used to back in the old days. I guess I'm just too sensitive as well as not being understanding. But I get annoyed, which is immature I suppose. I took a leap, I jumped in. I put everything in a basket called Trust and hoped for the best. In a way it worked out well. And in a way it didn't.
I've been reading and thinking. I guess I am just a fucking arsehole without a shred of compassion. Maybe if I wasn't such a relentless prick... If I keep thinking about it I'm going to have a fit. At heart I suppose I'm just so ashamed of myself that I can't see reason. Or something.
- Do you keep secrets about your sexual or romantic activities from those important to you? Do you lead a double life?
- Have your needs driven you to have sex in places or situations or with people you would not normally choose?
- Do you find yourself looking for sexually arousing articles or scenes in newspapers, magazines, or other media?
- Do you find that romantic or sexual fantasies interfere with your relationships or are preventing you from facing problems?
- Do you frequently want to get away from a sex partner after having sex? Do you frequently feel remorse, shame, or guilt after a sexual encounter?
- Do you feel shame about your body or your sexuality, such that you avoid touching your body or engaging in sexual relationships? Do you fear that you have no sexual feelings, that you are asexual?
- Does each new relationship continue to have the same destructive patterns which prompted you to leave the last relationship?
- Is it taking more variety and frequency of sexual and romantic activities than previously to bring the same levels of excitement and relief?
- Have you ever been arrested or are you in danger of being arrested because of your practices of voyeurism, exhibitionism, prostitution, sex with minors, indecent phone calls, etc.?
- Does your pursuit of sex or romantic relationships interfere with your spiritual beliefs or development?
- Do your sexual activities include the risk, threat, or reality of disease, pregnancy, coercion, or violence?
- Has your sexual or romantic behavior ever left you feeling hopeless, alienated from others, or suicidal?