Archive for the ‘Maybe?’ Category
Panasonic.
In Maybe? on October 25, 2008 at 2:22 pmLaura once asked me; “Are you a moaner like your mother?”
At the time I assumed, yeah, I’m a moaner.
Turns out I’m actually a screamer. Turns out he can make me scream his name just with his hands. His sister thinks we’re having sex. I can’t, I’ve tried very hard to stifle my moaning–it’s impossible, I’m simply loud.
Losing control was something I worried over. I realize now I don’t have anything to fear. The lack of clothing–we can just cuddle up naked and not jump the gun to sex. And fuck his hands are amazing.
Fuck we’re always laughing.
I’m completely new to everything. Neither of his exs were virgins when they got together, both of them he had sex with within the first month, both the relationship was mostly about sex. He says he likes my approach to it all better. He says he likes that I’ve been untouched.
We’re sitting in Ruby Tuesdays, and I’m happy that he’s finally letting me pay for dinner. He asks me ‘what’s on your mind?’ and I peek up at him, a half grin forming.
“Do you really want to know?” I inquired softly. He nods and I toss a catty grin, amused. “It’s kind of dirty.”
So I tell him. Kitty ears, handcuffed, and wearing a leather collar, lapping his cum off the floor. That’s what I’m thinking. He wants to know more details–what I’m wearing, what he’s wearing, what kind of floor it is. I say tile, he tells me the bathroom in his house has tile. I tell him I want him to do me on the bathroom floor too. He promises he will. Eventually.
So far, every romance novel I came across has been wrong. Extremely.
I blew him for an hour. I dunno how long people normally blow their boyfriends/random strangers, but I feel like I should have done it longer. When we were at his dads house, I blew him again in the closest for only twenty minutes. Mm.
He still finds a way to make me laugh. I can’t even remember about what, I’m blowing him and he cracks a joke between a gasp and a oh god.
He says I’m amazing, I’m incredible, it feel so ‘fucking good’–dunno what he means, really. I want to be better then his exs.
I feel selfish for saying it–but I’m starting to hate being away from him. I even hate it when we’re in the same class together and I can’t touch him. It’s almost torture. I feel selfish because Snarf only gets to see her man once awhile. I feel selfish because I can’t get enough. I feel selfish because I’ve never wanted to be with someone so much, all the time. No, not like marriage–I don’t care about tomorrow. I live like today is it, and today I really, really want to spend time, every second, with him.
I like it when the second we’re alone, you slam me against a wall and begin to kiss me.
I’m not sure why, but I don’t want gifts. I never have, maybe that’s why Christmas bugs the fuck out of me. Just leave me alone! It really isn’t selfish to want your boyfriend to get you things–everyone wants to feel loved–I just don’t want anything. There’s nothing in this world that I could possibly want, when I feel like I have everything. I’m happy, and I’ve got you right now, what else could I need? But, then again, that’s just who I am. Objects can’t satisfy my desires. I want to be god, I want to make something beautiful, I want Elizabeth’s name to kick the fuck out of Harry Potter’s name. The things I want, I don’t want someone else to get for me. I don’t want to be bought things, if I want it, I can get it myself. I want Snarf and FAJ to live a happily ever after, I want my mother to get better, I want Dennis to not got to OCCC.
I’m going to do everything. The world is at my fingertips.
Protected: Fraction of sanity, turn on a dime; shatter.
In Maybe?, Normal days on October 21, 2008 at 4:26 amThe secret organizations operating in the hotel…
In Asterisk!, D:< Angry, Maybe? on July 9, 2008 at 7:04 amSo the lions want to date me. Which means I’ve been trying to get away from my house. Every other night I’m at someone else’s. Because I can’t be here with the lions.
[xsilentxshoutx: Tell her to bug off, you have zebras to eat.
xsilentxshoutx: Lay down the law! Too many zebras to eat, too many safari tourists to frighten, too little time to play games with a fellow lioness!]
Lately I’ve been feeling… bad. Which is exciting! Could this be… sadness? I’m a little confused about it, but the confusion isn’t as big as usual. Maybe because I’m not crying. I’m pretty sure its like self pity attention-seeking comfort me, yet leave me alone type of thing. I just feel… bad. Awful, really. Like…
Left out?
Yeah. Like feeling left out. But I’ve been lying about the reason to everyone. So chin up. This should be exciting.
And it’s also… GENETICS!
Yay, science!
…And how!
Henceforth, DRAMA!
In Just a ramble., Maybe? on June 7, 2008 at 4:18 amIt’s rather extraordinary. I’m flabbergasted at my ex-therapist. I had been thinking about leaving him for a while, now. He just didn’t seem to be the one for me…. and besides, as Cap. Snarf says…
“I think we should see other people…even though you already do, YOU WHORE!”
:D Yeah. Anyway… Jayden was getting angry when I went to him–I guess spilling my secrets, that blabbing away at Jayden’s secrets fell into a ‘no-no’ for him, thus he expressed his undying rage, letting it hit me like waves, utterly ruining my weekends. And it was odd, because I had only been seeing this man, who I shall call Mark, because it’s his actual name and I don’t wish to spite him with my cruel name-calling, for four days, telling him all sorts of things. Mark said I was fine.
He just sat there, nodded, and scribbled things down on a pad. I turned my head away to laugh because, well, Cap. Snarf had said at Study Hall that day that whenever Mark was writing he was actually writing down, “SCHIZO SCHIZO SCHIZO!”
“Are you laughing at me?” He inquired curiously and I tilted my head in his direction.
“No, Kelsea said that whenever you write something down you’re actually writing Schizo, schizo, schizo.” I replied gleefully, deeply amused. His horrible beady eyes flicked to the end of the couch then back to me.
“Did Kelsea just say that to you? Is she here now?” His gaze shifted back to the couch and only answered him with more laughed.
Obviously she wasn’t, she was at home, playing the game I couldn’t even dream of.
But out of all my friends he wanted to meet Nathan. Which I found… odd. Why Nathan? It’s suspicious, isn’t it? So on the 5th meeting I announced…
“I’m leaving. Quitting. Jayden is angry.”
To which he replied with,
“I think you should consider medication.”
That was a shock. For what? What the bleeding hell would I need meds for? I had told him when we met that I wasn’t that way, I would never. He was trying to trap me. To get me to spend money… and then he said three little words that ruined me.
“It isn’t real.”
“They aren’t real.”
“You know, right?”
What? What wasn’t real? It struck me dead in the chest as over the next few weeks, and a shrink later, I was diagnosed as a Schizophrenic.
A bloody nut. After all the teasing and laughing over all these years that I just might be crazy, I am. I had pinned Nathan to be the Schizophrenic, not I. Funny how that works out. I hated the way Mark said those things to me.
“Your worlds” he’d say. “Those… voices… You know they aren’t real, right?”
Voices? Is that what Jayden’s reduced too? A ruddy voice? He’s his own self stuck inside of me. It’s strange, I suppose, but its true. Half the things that make me happy are “delusions”… “Hallucinations”.
Imagine growing up with someone–only to find out that you’re “Sick” and its “all in your head”. Imagine your best friend just being some type of delusion. And with a pill a day… that can all go away. Your best friend, the music, the noise, the whispers… half of you. Jayden isn’t a voice, and I don’t think medication can make that sarcastic melodramatic asshole leave. I wouldn’t want him too.
They say Nathan isn’t real either. Venny says that Nathan’s probably just some kid who breaks into my house from time to time.
So after arguing with a Shrink who only known me for 20 minutes, telling me that I was sick, that I wasn’t normal, that I’d never be able to function right and I was suffering terribly and a therapist dead certain I was going to end up killing myself…
I decided….
I need a new therapist to talk about my old therapist.
Here’s the facts.
I’m bloody happy. In fact, I’d be as bold to say that I’m one of the happiest people that anyone would ever meet. I’m such a freakin’ ball of sunshine that I tend to annoy my friends in the mornings.
I go to school. I go to work.
I get fairly good grades. And I’m a good worker.
I function nearly better than most “sane” people.
So why do I need medication? Why am I called sick? Why is my reality unacceptable? Why is your reality better than mine?
It’s true, some days I can’t even get out of bed because my anxiety is so high I can’t even think right. Ever since I was young, I was dead certain that the school is made of a system, that we’re being controlled and being prepared for a secret war. I can still remember the dragons looming outside of the window. At work my cash register talks to me–the numbers are constantly changing on me, and sometimes it’s angry at what the customers order. I know that people license plates are spelling out messages in numbers, I just haven’t figured the order, one of my best friends is a 15 year old boy from 1943 that somehow visits me, I hear whispers, sometimes I hear people telling me to off myself which makes me laugh rather than agree…
If you aren’t my friend, I won’t look at you, because you aren’t real… and I won’t really know if you are real. I have memories of things that I’m certain didn’t happen… I’m positive that the government somehow takes and gives memories… Sometimes I can’t write things because I KNOW my characters are listening out side of my house. There’s 12 green monsters from 2,000 years ago that live in water following me.
Yes, its a struggle, yes sometimes I go to school not really knowing what reality is or who people are.
But I’m damn happy, and I live my life the way I do. And I’m doing a bleeding good job of it.
So don’t tell me I need to be medicated.
