y tiene una fotográfica, que no me debe molestar. Que creía que a mi no me importara un pepino, pero aparece que todavía me moleste. Al verle en pantalla con el culo medio-expuesto. Jolín. Cómo que me afecta, ya pasó tantos meses y ya teníamos los dos parejas otras (pues…parejas sexuales). Y que yo mismo pensaba en hacer lo mismo…Pensaba en otros tipos de trabajo igualmente… pero me molesta que ÉL lo hace. JODER. Que le den .__.
so totally didnt dream about you last night
and then there was plane cuddling.
and sweet things and sweet things and sweet
I’ve been abused
I’ve almost been raped (Does “we’re in the middle and I don’t want to anymore” count as rape?)
I’ve done drugs; nose, mouth, lungs. All of it, really.
I’ve stolen things. Probably around %0$ worth by this time, which is a lot considering it’s only during one year. Or maybe not, don’t care.
I’ve shown my naked body to countelss complete strangers just so I could get off.
I’ve cut myself
I’ve burnt myself
I’ve enjoyed the feeling of blood running down my legs
I’ve changed myself for someone else
I’ve taken risks; I’ve run outside of my comfort zone
I’ve been addicted to drugs
I am addicted to drugs
I’ve listened to bad advice. I’ve listened to good advice. I’ve lied, I’ve cheated.
I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of;
and I’m a human being. I make mistakes, and I’m prepared to continue my life. Because no matter what happens, what goes on, who you alienate, who alienates you, or how much shit you have to go through, life continues. With or without you. And I choose with.
I will live on. And I will look past what I have done, and look only towards what I am doing.
But I want to wear dresses and heels; pretty, flowy clothes.
I don’t want to be a slut.
But I want to pole dance, because I love how it feels.
I don’t want to be a prostitute,
But I want to touch men without feeling like I have to sleep with them
I don’t want to have scars
But I want to watch the blood run down my skin
I don’t want to die
But I want to kill myself
I don’t want to be a “nini”
But I want to see the world for who it is
I don’t want to be addicted
But I want to do drugs; I want to smoke.
I don’t want to be tied down
But I want things that tie me down.
I don’t want to live,
I want to be alive.
no busco el hombre(/la persona) que me diga “Tú y yo somos una media naranja”;
Busco la persona que me diga “ah, somos similares. A ti te gusta esto? Pues lo intento, a ver si a mi me gusta también. Te apetece intentar ésta, la que me gusta?” Y de ahí vamos, descubriéndonos juntos. Eso es el amor; o por lo menos el amor que busco yo.
i dont know what my head is doing
i dont understand what is happening
my thoughts just dont make any sense. they are coherent, i guess, but the way i feel and how im thinking i just dont get it. and its not even drug-enduced. this started when i was sober. i was sober when this happened. when i switched into major dysphoria mode where my thouguths dont even make sense. and i dont feel like fixing erros in this because i just need to type. i need to do something to keep my head from spinning in circles and going weird lpaces and making things up that arent real. i need to stop it from turning my world into hell without my permission. by chanigng my perception. how. i hate you. you’re such a dick. i dont know where you came from or when you started doing this shit to me, i dont know why you clawed your way into me and made me into this monsterous thing i am now, this person i dont like who does things i dont do, this disgusting version of who i used to be, who i liked that iw as. and now im just this. and i dont know who or why i am. and these people just destroy me, they turn me into this thing, this dysphoric little thing that tumbles and spirals into a chasm of darkness with no end. and suddenyl, after hours of falling, far away from the cause…suddenly, the world flips. and everything is okay, my life is going fine, and i dont have to worry about me being a freak of nature or just the oddball all the itme, always on the periphery looking in at the normal people while they do their thing, completely fine and without any of these feelnigs of utter confusion about everything, or dislike of everything pertaining the i. the only thing in that world is normality, but it shatters so quickly and then i can’t get back. i can’t get back until this thing decides that im done riding. im done with this part of my trip, and now, i can go back to reality. sometimes, though, im asleep for most of the trip. and by the time im finally able to open my eyes the whole way and smell the fresh air, by the time im finally used to what its like in that glorious, sunny world, i again am hit by his hammer and slammed into that damn chasm, without any warning. as sooon as i have accepted being happy, im smashed into this place.
And here I am. Writing this for you. For all of you.
and I hear you. And maybe I’m crazy, or maybe I’m not. I feel like you’re reading this, though. I feel like you know. Because you, and only you, are the ones who seem to be able to do this. to make me feel like, or maybe know, that youre completely against me and you know my every move. you exist to deride and destroy me. but i actually dont care, or maybe im on the way. because to care about it is to give it power, i guess, but mainly i dont care because i realise that if that’s all you exist for, whether in reality or for fantasy, then i can move on and do my own thing. and if you hate me, that’s fine, but ill just leave. and i will feel no regret at all. because i can do whatever i want, and whatever happens is what happens. sorry if you dont like it.
Where. did. that. come. from. what’s going on. AGFSDHFGLSD. The pot. it makes me feel better, like the dysphoria aspect. my body doesnt feel like its dying and wrong, it feels right. it feels normal. but my mind is the opposite. my mind is infested..corrupted is a better word, by the state. and so there is no crossover; either my mind is rotting or my body is trying to escape my soul. only one is ever happy at a time.
Someties i miss you. And I wonder if I miss your body, your penis, your warmth, your brain, or some mixture of all of the above.
It’s a very strange moment.”
Then I realise I’m alone.
And I think that’s it.
Posted by mistymorrning
Esta gota perfecta, Quedábamos ahí mirándola. Tú me cogiste la mano - La izquierda, lo recuerdo - Y ahí nos sentábamos solos. Ni yo sabía Que esa gota, Tan pura y clara, Se volvía sucia. Pero así no lo fue; Es que estaba sucia Por lo largo de la vida. Esta suciedad Se ocultaba bien; Era una puta Vestido de monja Andando así Con poca vergüenza. Las mejillas rojas, La poca ropa, Los ojos claros, La sonrisa brillante, Y así fue; Qué corrupción tan bella; Qué belleza tan corrupta. Ahí nos sentábamos solos Mirándola.
pues es que me encantas
no sé porque
pero contigo me siento cómodo
una cosa que no me ha pasado hasta mi ex
quién era asshat…
por eso no sé si debo darte mi confianza o no
pero la realidad será que te he gustado hasta conocerte
por eso no sé se debemos seguir así o no
especialmente por nuestros problemas con LDR en el pasado
es que te adoro, hombre
me pareces muy similar a mi
muy dulce, muy cómodo, muy interesante
y te quiero coger por las cadenas
girar como si fuera un vase en el proceso de hacer
y tenerte en mis manos
es que me gustas mucho, tío
por ti enseño tu lengua nativa
pero es que también a mi me parece muy rápida la progresión de nuestra relación
y me quedo inseguro
quiero estar contigo y tenerte en mis brazos cada noche
pero la verdad es que no sé si nosotros nos cabemos
por eso te digo
me gustas muchísimo, me encantas hasta que nos conocimos
pero es que no tengo prisa
vamos como vamos y a ver que pasa
que no quiero le hacer daño a ni uno de nosotros
y por eso, así quedamos de esperanza del porvenir.
ojalá que entiendas..
Because I knew you, I’ve been changed for good.
You were my rocket to the moon; the one who found the song with my name in it.
You were supposed to be my escape, and I, the one watching you sleep shotgun, trying not to crash the car.
It was you and I;
We were going to make people sweaters
&live in France, on top of a mountain, making everybody look like ants.
I don’t understand where it all went.
Was I always just in love with someone you weren’t?
I kept hoping that person I fell so hard for was still there.
I kept looking for that feeling but I couldn’t find it -
I can’t find it.
It’s been such a long time since I’d felt it; since I’d believed it.
Since the drugs began, the jail, the sex;
What happened to us? To you?
You weren’t who I thought you were.
I stayed because you were so perfect.
But in reality, you aren’t even close to perfect.
I couldn’t tell what was real about you anymore.
It all felt like lies; everything was lies.
The whole fifteen months.
I will never again look at you
As the man who took me on a rocket to the moon.
As my “mudman”, the affectionate term you hated so much.
I may never read 1984 the same again.
"It was only an ‘opeless fancy,
It passed like an Ipril dye;
But a look an’ a word an’ the dreams they stirred
They ‘ave stolen my ‘eart awye!
They sye that time ‘eals all things,
They sye you can always forget;
But the smiles an’ the tears across the years
They twist my ‘eart-strings yet!”
(“It seems to me it symbolises their feelings for each other, and the abrupt end that is to come of it”)
You ruined me.
You ruined my friends
My sophomore year
My first time
My future sexual encounters
My future dating prospects
My taste in music.
I’ll never be the same because of you.
The worst of it is:
I let you do it.
You’re the ugly scar on my finger -
A hideous reminder -
Something I loved dearly;
Something that will never be the same.
You’re the kink in my jaw;
The thing that looks and feels just the same
But underneath, there’s something about it -
Something that will always be different.
Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.
You were my rocket to the moon.
But now I’ve landed.
&I realised that the truest love
the person that, on your wedding day, you can’t keep your eyes away from. the one who understands, the one who always comes back. the one who’s tied to you from the moment your eyes lock the very first time…
that love isn’t found.
it isn’t searched for. it isn’t won, or gained, or a result of anything.
That love, that pure love
is the one that finds you, at the moment you’re least expecting it.
That love is what happens when your paths finally cross, and your threads of fate tie together as they were inevitably meant to do.
You can’t control the timing. You ride out the wave until you come ashore. And then you run into their arms.
but i said i was feeling bad
not that it wasnt true, it was. i just got hit by a huge surge of paranoia, anxiety, and mainly dysphoria. i feel wrong, and I haven’t felt this bad in weeks. not since the last time i was in gettysburg.
so it got me thinking. i do have a trigger.
and i just dont understand. no one minded, apparently. or did they not care… no one even checked on me. well, not yet. maybe they will. maybe. but maybe i should just not care.
just like i dont about anything else
i know what love is like, what i want in a friend…don’t i? so whats so wrong here…what makes me feel like this? and why only with certain people. maybe my subconscious knows something i dont.