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Had to delete my squarespace so putting posts here
FEAR
I once heard that suicide is the last solace. This morning, struggling to get out of bed, I held the concept in my mind's hands, played with it, but deep inside I knew that my courage was not nearly as strong to do the deed. Whenever I hear about some artist or celebrity committing suicide, instead of disdain, I feel respect. There is a part of me that believes that humans are some sort of mutation that wasn't supposed to happen. Why are we so different from other animals?
Last night, I spent hours reading about a child sexual abuse case from Belgium. The Doulleux dosier or something.
It was strange that I couldn't stop reading, even if some parts made me feel sick. I couldn't imagine being the victim or perpetrator in this case. At the same time, I was repulsed by my own desire to keep reading. It's like watching a car crash. I think people find pleasure from violence and aberration. By pleasure, I don't mean the normal sense. More like the one that keeps you watching like a horror film or the news coverage of Jon Benet Ramsey's kidnapping and murder. Deep inside there is some sort of dopamine releasing that causes the people to continue watching the car crash and the stories on the news about bombs in New York. Or maybe it's adrenaline. Who the fuck knows. All I know is that people hide the things they want to hide because they think it's wrong and they amplify the things that make them look good. Society.
Stuff like this makes me feel like I can't talk to anybody. We have all this stupid shit we keep inside. I guess certain things are known but people just don't talk about them. I've always been an open person but I feel this darkness presiding over my thoughts, mostly because there's no one I can talk to them about. Fear of being a pedophile (POCD), Fear of being gay (OCD), fear of death. Fear of people. Fear of living. I don't know if I can take much more of this. Everything is so hard. I need to stop watching porn because it gives me these fucked up perceptions about sex. Hanging out with my cousin yesterday, I had a hard time looking at her in the eye because I was thinking about all the porn I was watching the night before and how embarrassed I would be if she knew.
This then goes to my belief that everyone has to know everything about me, like I owe them that somehow. Like I need their approval over my own. Maybe this is the lesson Corey taught me. Do I approve of myself? At the moment, I don't think that I do. I feel tainted and broken. Maybe because of the HPV and my past. The broken hearts.
Maybe I should stop trying to control my fears and just embrace the fear that comes, not knowing if more fear will come, maybe it will not come, but stop trying to control it.
SNOW WHITE AND THE WICKED STEPMOTHER
I will preface this by stating that Snow White, as it was originally written, did not have an evil Stepmother, but just a regular mother. This fact brings into theme the jealousy that is often felt by mothers towards their daughters.
Ideas like this, which are universal are rarely spoken about because it makes people uncomfortable. Our very natures are often the very things that cause us discomfort. This universal truth (the denied nature) is depicted in the enduring myth referenced in Genesis where Adam and Eve consume the apple at the discretion of the Serpent, and subsequently cover themselves in order to hide their nakedness. Animals(but not humans) feel no shame for their nature (unless conditioned to). I believe that humans are also conditioned to feel shame. They are taught what is good and evil based on their own experiences with the themes. Thus, I believe that the act of original sin is not a root event happening once in humanity, but happening in every life. The capability of learning Good and Evil, an aspect of the brain, is shown through the metaphor of the forbidden fruit.
How did we disobey God? The metaphor implies that it was from the development of the modern brain. Perhaps the disobedience comes from coveting something forbidden, or coveting in general, which is perhaps the building block of civilization itself. In order to obtain many good and land and wives, one must have a well developed brain. As the brain develops so does civilization and vice versa.
Back to the whole point of this post. Today I was joking around with my dad, which is rare for us. He tends to be withdrawn unless drunk. I was picking up Peanut and using her to kick him. I'm laughing and he's not complaining, but I look at my mom and she doesn't look pleased but slightly uncomfortable. Actually this is her usual reaction when my dad and I are getting along. I don't know if it's because she feels left out or jealous but she is never happy with the pleasantries between us. I wonder if she's afraid that my dad and I would develop a sexual relationship (even typing this makes me feel weird and uncomfortable). I've heard her telling stories of how she was drugged and raped by her uncles and then even have a forced medicinally induced abortion. All of this sounds so absurd but it is real. But talking about it does help me process the situation. Humans are born through violence but touched by the idea of perfection.
Anyway yeah. Original sin. Nature versus idealization. Jealous mother.
All I want is a nice bed, home, boyfriend, and a good career. And a dog.
OCD POCD SOOD HOCD
All this time I was worried that Fred would be reading my blog and thinking about what I loser I am but it turns (through the Squarespace analytics) that he wasn't looking at my page at all. Not even once (according to the ip logs they were mostly me). Maybe it is better to be seen than be invisible.
What if I want neither?
Then maybe I belong in some sort of purgatory and not in the distinct space of [to be or not to be]. I'm not even sure if any of that remotely made sense. Hamlet asks himself, to be or not to be. Is there a third option?
The highlight of my day is going to Stew Leonards with my mom to buy bacon on sale.
On the bright side, I was watching some old videos of myself and it doesn't seem like I've gotten any dumber. Still retarded as ever!
I just wish I had the motivation and confidence to do something with my life. Instead I'm afraid of everything: having schizophrenia, being a pedophile, being gay, being incompetent, dying, living life. Smoking weed at least helped with my depression but made the anxiety and paranoia worse. Cigarettes made my depression worse. Maybe I should just stop with the substances and stick with one perspective for the time being. I think my other problem is just an addiction to outside substances. It's a psychological thing, like I can't enjoy life unless it's enhanced by a substance. Maybe it's a result of being oversaturated with consumerist ideals and having it applied to my own existence and body.
The killer for my self-esteem was having HOCD which lead to POCD, both being SOOCD. Basically fear of being a sexual orientation that is dissimilar to my own. When I was younger, it was fear of germs, then living with Erin* (who had HIV) it was the chance of getting HIV (which were extremely low but present nonetheless). It was really hard having cervical dysplasia, which lead to me being even more promiscuous for some reason (one night stands prevented having to talk about things). I think my fear of having HIV came from the guilt I felt not informing my partners of HPV.
Even with that said, I'm not going to disclose HPV status once it clears because it's just retarded because almost everyone has it, and if it's cleared then it's not possible to transmit. No more guilt!
Going back to the HOCD, POCD, and SOOCD. I think it stemmed from little comments that Erin would make regarding my sexuality. I guess the uncertainty about my sexuality hit so hard for the mere fact that I was very comfortable with it. Despite watching crazy amounts of porn, even identifying with the guy, I was still straight. I talked to Fred a little about this and he said it's common because, duh the male gaze. He's really smart. I wish he was my boyfriend.
Sorry getting distracted. Yeah so it started off with the fear of being gay even though I've never been sexual with a girl or wanted to be, sans the porn in the male gaze. Then because I have this age gap fetish, erroneously thought I might be a pedophile. Long story short, I am not a pedophile (this is confirmed by a mental health professional, though in the next session she suggested I go on antipsychotics). No, I just want to be fucked by an older, mature (but not too mature, like 35-50) gentleman.
Post Turned Into Erotica
I tend to get obsessed with guys because I'm lazy and don't want to get rich on my own. I'm also tired of fucking myself.
My new obsession is Fred* who I've been fantasizing about since last Friday. It never occurred to me that he was older, but alas he is about 8 years older than me (I have a thing for older men). I called him today making some excuse about getting paid for the shoot (it's going to take two months). He doesn't know that I've been internet stalking both him and his girlfriend (they are semi-famous so there's a lot).
Honestly, I think I would make a good wife, the only downside is I would probably go crazy within a few years. Just the idea of being with the same person for the rest of my life is making my eyes roll to the back of my head. But you never know until you try right?
Everything about the logistics of human life makes me laugh. Just the hypocrisy of it all is baffling, once you get past all the neurotransmitters and hormones.
I think I'm slowly getting out of that anxiety of being afraid that I'm gay or a pedophile. It was honestly the scariest and most depressing days of my life, but a bit laughable now. The other day I was watching porn and was mesmerized by this woman's size A cups bouncing as she was getting fucked. Looking at it now, I guess there is something really mesmerizing and sensual about breasts bouncing from a dick going in and out of it. Sometimes I feel like I have the sex drive of a teenage boy, but I think it's a result of my biological clock running. I get really turned on by the idea of getting forced into sex. Not rape, per say, but like I'm cooking and Fred* without asking puts his dick inside of me.
Or like I'm at home wearing a corset and garter and he slips a finger inside of me to find that I'm soaking wet. "Go upstairs and get ready for me." As he's making himself a drink I'm in the master bathroom freshening up. My small shapely lips give a preview of what's going on downstairs. As I'm putting on lipstick he comes up behind me and starts kissing my neck. I can feel his stiff cock pressing against my ass-crack. His 6 foot 2 frame overpowers my small one and I am helpless in his arms.
Ect. Ect. Ect.
*Name has been changed to protect the innocent.
Introduction
Whenever I write something knowing it will be published, I end up sounding cheesy. There's nothing about it I can change, but I made this website in order to write anonymously and not have my writing be affected by potential readers.
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Activewear just looks like clothes from the future
Me
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Instead of going with him, I’m going with my friend, who I think is a lesbian. Well, I know she’s bisexual for sure, but she may be a pure lesbian. A fact she revealed one time to me.
She always gives me a headache. For instance, she messages me saying can I call you after my class?
Just fucking call me. What am I going to say, no?
I don’t respond and she says, is it too late to call you now?
Same fucking answer. No, I don’t want to talk to you right now because my parents want me to leave the house, but I have nowhere to fucking go.
Anyway, she gives me a headache and I’m just gonna ignore her, Can I call you questions until she fucking stops asking or just calls me.
I need a place where I could bring my huge desktop. I guess I could just leave some stuff until (if) I find a place to put it, but my dad has a tendency to smash electronics when angry.
He’s never hit me after a certain age. But he did hit my mom one time, and she ended up in the hospital, I think.
The fight with my parents started this afternoon when I was making breakfast and looking for a usable knife, that’s sharp, and it’s nowhere to be found. I’m slicing with a dull knife and burn my finger on the potato because the knife isn’t cutting fast enough. I let out a yell of exasperation, and then my dad appears out of nowhere saying, if you’re gonna yell then do it somewhere else.
I say, where am I going to go?
He always does stuff like this like butting in with my arguments with mom and takes it to the next level. I get pissed and start saying how I’m pissed because I live with a crazy person (my mom) and he always takes her side.
It just keeps getting worse and worse. Basically, I think my mom hid the sharp knife because she’s passive aggressive and insane, but my dad just thinks I’m an asshole.
She does these little things that make me question whether she secretly wants to torture me.
One time, I told her I couldn’t stand the idea of eating pork and she buys two packages of bacon and then makes three pork dishes for dinner.
It’s sinister on a dark level.
My cousin told me that when we were little, my mom tried to drown us and that’s why she was put in the mental hospital for a week.
There’s a possibility that she had Harm OCD and the fear that she was going to drown us. Which would explain my own OCD.
We got into a fight about how I can’t call my mom crazy even though she is. We go around acting like nothing’s wrong and that she’s a normal person with good intentions when there’s a chance she might be.
The most fucked up part is that we are really close.
Kinda like me and my old roommate in LA.
On top of all that, I think that my brother is secretly gay. At a party one time, I met his friend who said that he and my brother used to date. I thought he was joking and said, “You know that’s not funny, because my mom thinks he’s gay.” My brother didn’t find it funny and was still mad at me at Christmas (this happened in October) when he and my parents came back home from a party drunk. From my room, I heard him bringing up what happened at the party, and then the fact that I’m trying to be a director. He said it in a way that connottated that I was reaching too high and that I wouldn’t make it.
And maybe I will never make it. But someone saying that to me doesn’t help. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a director. But I don’t want to try to spend my life proving someone wrong. I want to do something because I want to fucking do it.
Oh, and I also think he’s gay because my mom is overbearing and my dad is aggressive and emotionally withdrawn. I read somewhere that parents of homosexuals were like that as a result of, and not as a causation.
Of course it could be me, but actually it can’t because it would be the reverse. That my mother would be withdrawn and my father overbearing. At the same time, I don’t think there is such a stigma with being a lesbian as it is being a gay man.
Yeah, he might be gay. Also he goes to these crazy parties with friends to places like Vegas with gay looking dudes. I rest my case.
I’m listening to a lot of stand up comedy, and it makes me wonder if I should at least just try it. But I’m so fucking angry and I don’t know why. I mean, just with this post it’s kind of obvious. But I have so many fucking fears.
But maybe I should just do it.
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I Ching for the day: give up the incessant demands of my ego; deepen humility and acceptance; let go of my resistance to life and hold quiet and correct thoughts. AMEN.
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Say Goodbye
I won tickets to this party, and stupidly asked him via Facebook with the following message: hey/link to party/i won ticket to this. wanna go?
Of course after debating the whole thing using philosophy and the whole you only live once argument, I convinced myself I had to do it, ask him.
After convincing myself I had to do it, I clicked send with hey and the link even though I just meant to say hey first. Immediately after sending it, I felt like a complete idiot, and my desire to even go with him, spiked by inane fear of being in his vicinity, let alone a party, completely diminished.
Now I just checked my FB and he still hasn’t responded. He’s not online. I’m sure he won’t respond and I feel completely sunken and strangely liberated. Like I want to email that old professor and ask for a recommendation letter to teach at that college.
How come when you’re younger everything is so easy, and with age everything becomes an exercise of faith and perseverance. It used to be so easy to talk to him, and now it feels like there is a wall built up between us. As though I’m scared to talk to him when I never felt like that before.
It makes me really sad. Maybe his girlfriend is pregnant. He is going to marry her. And we’ll never end up together.
Why do I get so obsessed with ideas and people? Maybe I really shouldn’t have that coffee, or anymore coffee.
What do I want?
It’s always been him.
As I’m saying this a baby is crawling by. It’s the same color as the carpet and keeps smiling at the guy sitting in front of me who is nicely built.
While walking through the mall, it seems like people look at me more than I look at them and it bothers me. It makes me feel rude, but sometimes I don’t want to look at anyone unless I want to.
It might also be a dominance thing. As though I’m scared to look at them because I think that they are better than me. That’s the generally feeling I have at the mall. There are so many pretty things that I can look at but can’t have. And I feel like the well-dressed people are better than me. Then I become embarrassed at myself. I start to judge myself.
He told me that I needed to become more of an alpha female, whatever that meant. Does that have to do with the looking? It’s like, I don’t want people to think that I think I’m better than them, even though I do.
This place holds to many memories. As in the place where I grew up. Too many memories of him. Maybe it’s like everything in life. The discomfort will fade and I won’t feel my heart pull so achingly at the place I told him I loved him after we smoked a cigarette. Where he told me that he was getting married and that she was pregnant.
I still can’t believe he hasn’t messaged me back. Already I know it’s a no.
With every year more walls are built between us. And it becomes like we were never friends who fell in love, with the timing all wrong.
Writing this, I don’t feel better. It just makes my heart ache instead of pump with adrenaline. Because writing this makes me realize that it’s over. Or it never was. That I have to do something with my life that doesn’t have anything to do with him. For once. To just let go.
I think I just need to not be obsessed with guys anymore. It has always only hurt me.
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The most crippling things that ever happened to me, that is really isolating me from the rest of the world, is the fear I could be a pedophile. Although a therapist assured me I wasn’t, there is always a feeling of doubt, and is enough to drive me insane. Perhaps this is OCD. But I was never diagnosed.
It started when I was doing a lot of drugs, and instead of partying, I watched porn by myself. I became interested in a kind of taboo where a younger woman is taken advantage of by an older man, usually in a position of authority.
Then I got deeper into the fetish where I was watching videos of young looking women. Never prepuberty. That would be gross, and something I definitely do not want to watch, but young looking. I would like to stress that this was all on legal sites. What bothers me now, is the time I would spend looking for that special video of a beautiful young blonde being violated by a more experienced man.
I realize that I was putting myself in the position of the girl. Fantasizing that I was her. But I know that I can never look like her, and I cannot possibly grow younger.
But despite this knowledge, I fear being a pedophile because the idea popped into my head. How do I prove that I’m not?
I look for the smallest details and safeguard all my actions in public because of this fear.
Now I am more afraid of being gay. However, I wonder why I have this fear since lesbianism is generally pretty accepted in my culture. And I realize that it’s because I am not gay. My fear is actually to never be with a man again. My fear is to never be accepted into society again. My fear is to not be able to play with children. The last one is a strange fear to me because I never liked children but I think my biological clock is ringing. Loudly.
At the same time, I think that porn has conditioned me to associate other women with sexual pleasure. In my dreams, I will look for a woman to have sex with and sometimes have a wet dream. These kinds of dreams don’t really happen that much anymore since I’ve stopped watching porn. I’ll look for a woman out of habit, but there won’t be any sexual pleasure. Last night, I dreamt that this man and woman were having sex, and I came when he started being more dominating. So I’m pretty sure I just want a Christian Grey. I’ll take it all as a cue to stop watching porn, and just masturbate with my imagination.
Though my experience so far has left me socially isolated and sad, I will say this: it is now hard for me to judge people based on their sexual preferences, no matter what they are. And I will also say this: non-offending pedophiles need our sympathy, not our wrath. No one chooses their sexuality. As long as they don’t hurt anybody or anything, they should not be judged poorly. It is not their fault they were born or conditioned a certain way.
The saddest part about all this is I may just be a boring heterosexual. Oh, I guess I just need to figure something else anxiety-inducing to obsess about.
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I feel isolated in a really meaningful, cinematic, and modern way. I didn’t think it would end up being like this growing up. Growing up, you think that anything you can imagine can be real. But in this generation, everything is saturated with imagination and creation, people beating their hearts out, going above and beyond, that someone like me can only watch at awe in the corner with a vague sense of longing and jealousy. As a person on the outside looking in.
Do I have dyslexia?
If I did, then things would make a lot more sense. I just realized my name is surpringlynotarobot when I meant surprisinglynotarobot. Strangely, I like surpringly a lot better. I wonder why it’s not already a word. It sounds like it means something.
Am I a schizophrenic?
I had a dream that everything was going wrong in my life because I had schizophrenia. In the dream that answer simplified everything so the searching would stop.
Maybe I keep trying to label myself in order to make sense of the chaos within myself. The chaos comes from the lack of certainty. Going through life, it seems that the storyline becomes more and more uncertain. As a child, everything seems certain, and it’s as though all that you know starts to peel away in a fire, with ashes catching to the wind, and what’s left is not what you had originally imagined. That’s how I feel.
Right now I’m struggling to just figure out myself. For example, I went through my entire life being certain of my sexuality, but some things came up making me question it. For instance, the kind of porn I watch. And perhaps subsequently, the dreams I have. Involving women.
The thing is, I’m not sure if I’m attracted to women in real life. But that’s not a complete surety because of the fact that I might be severely repressed. At the same time, I really like men.
Something I came across is called a heteroromantic bisexual, which means you’re romantically interested in the opposite sex but sexually attracted to both sexes. Which also means that you wanna fuck the same sex but don’t wanna date them. You wanna smash and dash, basically.
It must have something to do with the brain. Probably something like the part of the brain that has to do with romantic love is separate from the part that deals with sexy stuff. Wait. So that means those two are separate, or can be separate?
Well, I’m not a brain expert. Actually, that’s kind of my problem. I’m not an expert in anything. I know it takes seven years to become an expert in something, but nothing holds my interest for that long.
I like to write, but in no way do I consider myself a good writer. Mostly because I can’t remember big words for the life of me. No matter how many times a see a fancy word, as I like to call it, no matter how many times I look it up, I cannot, for the love of god remember it.
Last night, I downloaded Krita, which is a more refined, yet boring adult version of KidPix and played around with it for a while. It was fun, but then I got frustrated trying to figure out the damn software.
Why can’t software be intuitive?
Why do I have to watch hundreds of hours of Youtube videos to figure out how to cut and paste part of a picture when it is a very basic aspect of the software? In my mind, if I can’t figure the basics out intuitively then I must be a retard.
I think the main problem is Google. Ever since Google was invented, I never had to problem solve again. My problem solving skills became limited to how to properly Google something.
Well rant officially over. I have nothing left to say and nothing to do because the last time I went on a hike with Peanut we got like 100 ticks, including two under my armpit.
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