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It’s an emptiness that feels like it’s hollowing you out. But your skin burns as you scratch at it, trying to rip off the scars that prove your worthlessness. A pattern that means nothing but yet tells a story filled with self loathing and fear. Every mark destroys you; eats at you until there’s nothing left but there’s still the compulsion; the need to try to murder yourself a litter faster than before.

You feel like you’re suffocating but still you can take a breath. Your body feels heavy, but it may only be the weight of your soul. Your feet feel like they’re dragging even though you walk with a steady precision; you know where you’re going – it’s inevitable at this point. You always question the when but not the how; never the why. You know; you’ve always known. It was him and her and them and everyone that paved the road to this place:

Bodies upon bodies and lust upon hate; the weight of one man feels like a hundred because of his number. But it’s required; it’s what you do. It’s what we all do. We play the game and do what’s expected because it’s the way we’ve been taught; the way you’ve been taught. You know how to obey, more than you know how to protest.

The word ‘no’ sounds foreign for all the good it does; most of the time it never makes it out of your mouth anyway. It’s a coy look and a smile; a laugh like it’s a joke even though your skin is crawling because you already know the way this game ends. There is no choice anymore; it’s all a lie. It’s laughable how easy people make it sound; but they don’t know reality. They don’t know what it’s like to feel trapped by repetition and habit.

You learned young, didn’t you?

This is what you do; this is how you do it. And you will always, always give it when it’s needed.

And it broke you.

Fool. You thought it gave you power. Do you feel powerful now? To have lost count? To feel sick every time you touch yourself? But you still persist; let the insanity of this addiction consume you whole and spit you back out again until you lie there; naked and bleeding and wondering yet again why people think this is fun; sexy.

You have the fantasy; consume yourself with it. Of what it’s supposed to be like, what it’s supposed to feel like. So you sit and you write and you run away… but you never run far enough. It’ll never stop, and no matter how much you write about perfection, you will never have it. No matter how much you write about the pain, it doesn’t make it go away.

It was bearable with the distraction. Fill the pipe, spark the flame; watch the smoke swirl in the little glass bowl and taunt you with promises of forgotten nightmares as you inhale and feel the weight be lifted from your shoulders, just a little. But the pipe is broken; the release long gone. What’s left? Your skin can barely handle the torture anymore; mistakes, excuses, and destruction are starting to rise up instead of blend with the background. It’s ugly and that’s something you can’t bear.

You’re ugly on the inside; you must be beautiful on the outside. Fix your hair and pound on the makeup and have cleavage that goes for miles. But that’s not beauty; that’s a sign on your forehead. You make it true; all of it. It’s the way you dress and the way you speak and the habits you’ve fallen into so deep that’s near impossible to climb your way out of. You feel like trash and all you do is make yourself look like beautiful garbage.

So you take a swig of the liquor and swallow more of your new salvation. The room blurs around you but you lather, rinse and repeat as the numbness settles in your chest. It’s a finality; a calm. You aren’t scared, for the first time in your life. It’s an expected closure that you’ve been waiting on bated breath for. You need it; crave it.

Save me.

There are no tears; tears would imply sadness. You aren’t sad; you’re relived. Finally, finally… a promise of peace. The voices stop screaming in your head and you feel yourself smile slightly; the muscles shutting down even in your face making it more difficult. But it doesn’t matter; you know your smiling.

Are you beautiful now?

Tell me, are you beautiful now?

Labels: drugs, sex, suicide

Jesus Christ.

Life. Sigh.

So I just threw a fit like a bloody five year old and took down everything that had to do with Leverage to make a fucking point. I know that’s probably really bratty, but I’m sorry; my feelings were hurt… are hurt. And I think that I was able to last this damn long before I exploded should be an accomplishment in and of it’s self. I mean hell; it’s been months and months of all this repetitive crap. So yeah, pat on the fucking back to me for not blowing up everything sooner.

I can’t talk about this in here like I did on my LJ or my Facebook. Those two are locked to the public, and frankly? So not looking to get sued for slander, here. Or, fuck, whatever. Besides even all of that though, part of me still really cares about this person (though, why? Yeah, I don’t know), and I can’t… fuck, I can’t do the same shit that everyone else did at the beginning. Hurt their feelings like that shit did then. Especially that crap coming from me? That’s… that’s really fucking cruel. Honestly. I was the thing that made all of that not suck as bad. I made the depression go away. Apparently, anyway.

So I can’t be the cause of it. As much as I wish that they would pay attention for two freaking seconds and fix what is so easily repairable if only they bothered… I won’t ever say anything. I can’t. But hey, that’s me putting everybody first. AGAIN.

And it’s not like I didn’t try… but I pussied out. Hardcore. Ugh.

Maybe part of me wishes someone else would do it. Just get their attention and be like “hey, shit just went South; fix?” but I doubt anyone will. Though to be honest I don’t know… fuck, I don’t know if it’ll really all fix. I mean yeah, simple shit, I’ll forgive it all temporarily. But then there’s the nagging in the back of my mind that it was only fixed so they could get what they wanted to come back. That it was meaningless. That I’m being used, or something. But fuck, it’d still be nice to hear, regardless of the intentions.

I just… fuck, I work my ass off. It’s not something that really should be taken for granted because of just the massiveness of it all. And especially not when it’s so known. That I’m so known, or whatever. If I was anonymous, if no one knew, then I wouldn’t expect anything. Maybe that’s my problem. Or the problem. Or something. I’m known, so it’s like yeah, how hard is it to, I don’t know, not fucking blatantly ignore me? It’s been a year this month. A bloody year. Two words is not hard to say…

What’s even worse than that is the fact that I know they say nice things about me to everyone else. So why the hell do I so very clearly not matter when I’m actually around? Is it all just some kind of front? Cause I don’t play like that.

It really all just comes down to the fact that I’m a fucking person. I have a life, feelings, whatever. And frankly? You are not as cool as you think you are, and obviously not as cool as I thought you were if this is how shit’s gonna play out. So right now? This is how it looks when I’m not around. Part of me hopes you give a shit, but I won’t bet money on it.

Though, outside of that whole thing, of course more shit had to be piled on top of it.

Fans. Fans that are just so blatantly fucking mean to me because of, hell, I don’t know. Everyone says jealousy, but I don’t know. It’s really not like my life is anything to envy, here. Really, people. And the fact that people feel the need to tear me down and be cruel really upsets me. I do so fucking much for this fandom. You think I got noticed because I sat on my ass and did nothing? No. I work my ass off to promote the show in any way that I can. To make things that are enjoyable for other fans. So you know what? Yeah, I think I deserve the little bit of attention I get. And maybe, if you weren’t such a lazy complaining asshole, and actually did shit to get you noticed, than you would be too. Nothing is free, idiot. You work to get the things you want.

Oh, and by the way, trying to ruin a great memory for me by saying I’m a liar? Fuck off. That’s just ridiculous, mainly because I have a truth problem. Me lying is kind of fucking laughable if you even knew me.

So this is me being a brat and showing the fandom what it’s like when I’m not around. If I had the effort I’d make all my fic entries in my LJ private to prove my point further, but I figured it’d just be pointless since I can’t find a way to get rid of all my sit on FF.net and still be able to bring it back later when everything has cooled off some.

But moving on from fandom drama…

I watched some girl have sex for the first time for money. Well, not watched, but I was there. I had her guys friend. And god, it’s difficult to watch. Just cause it’s always so confusing at first, and this girl afterwards was like “he was really sweet to me…” blah blah. I was like “NO! He PAYED you to have sex with him. He is nothing but a trick! God, don’t ever personalize it.”

Oh, and she let him kiss her. Negative. You never, ever kiss. That’s too intimate. Sigh. When guys try to kiss me I usually tell them it’s flu season. Because oddly enough I only have to do this crap in the winter…

Oh and the girl I’ve been fucking, well, the girl I’ve been fucking with her boyfriend… totally freaked out on me yesterday for leaving with that customer. She got all possessive. I was like wtf? And then she told me I was only the second person she’s ever slept with. It’s hard for her to just… I don’t know, not care.

So yeah, we’re not gonna fuck anymore.

And I should be writing my article on “Leverage” but instead I’ve been watching HIMYM all damn day. Oh well, it just needs to be up by Friday morning. Guess I’ll do it when I wake up. I always wait to do this shit to the last minute lol. But right now I just wanna forget about “Leverage” for a minute.

Lord. Just. Life. God.

Labels: leverage, sex, stripping, whores

Overlapping my sexual writing styles for this last story was weird for me. Mainly because while I have specific set ways on how each pairing has sex with each other, I couldn’t think of a solid one for Parker/Sophie/Eliot. It’s just an odd threesome, you think? One that no one ever really thinks of, and only came about because of Parker/Sophie hints in my last Sophie/Eliot story. Continuation of that. If I knew how hard it would be to logically write them all to that point, I might have said fuck it and never started . HA. I’m serious. Once again, what was supposed to be a short story is now up to being 45 fucking pages long (and still not finished).

To explain though, when I write:

Eliot/Sophie; it’s rough, dominating. Full of masochism and anger mixed with both love and passion. It’s kinky, it’s wild, it’s in every way so very not watered down. Eliot dominates very fiercely, both with words and actions. It’s violent. Sophie can dominate too, but she’s not very good at it. For being so good at manipulating people as a grifter, she can’t seem to manipulate Eliot. Instead, she takes the opposite route; for one who’s always in control, she surrenders all of it to him: the one person she knows she can trust it with because of Eliot’s own control over his violence. She wants to be hurt, but she wants to feel safe at the same time. That’s not to say she doesn’t try to dominate him, but in the end usually succumbs to Eliot’s needs. That said, they can have romantic, soft sex, but it’s rare.

Parker/Sophie; I’ve probably done it all with Parker/Sophie, being the pairing I wrote very heavily and primarily during season one. I’ve done love, I’ve done anger, I’ve done kink. But out of all of the stories I’ve done, the main route I usually take is usually just... hard passion. Parker loves Sophie; in so many way’s she’s like the mother she never had (and yes, I realize how kinky and a bit fucked up that in it’s self seems, but bear with me). That love, when put in a sexual situation, makes Parker get very, very attached (which in turn usually makes her the submissive). Now Sophie, on the other hand… Sophie does care about Parker. She worries about her, watches out for her, but when put in a sexual situation with her, she tends to be blinded by her own selfishness. She wants it all without all the headaches that being with Parker could possibly make for her. So she always suppresses it, makes Parker keep everything a secret, keeps a firm distance from getting too close, and gets frustrated and angry when Parker doesn’t understand why. But there is a part of Sophie that loves her, that’s maybe even in love with her a little bit, and while near the end of my stories that tends to come out, during sex it’s still very much hidden under the layers. Their sex is a little rough usually, dom/sub without the massive kink (you’re just usually very aware of who is in control, even though its never spoken), and not anywhere close to the decibel of Eliot and Sophie’s is.

Parker/Eliot; I’ve only done this once, very briefly, just for the sin “Lust” in my Seven Deadly Sins short stories. Just rough fuck and forget against the wall in the bathroom of an airplane. Very unattached, emotionless. They used each other to get off and that was that, basically. There was no point to talk about it afterwards, in their mind. Get some, get gone. They both seemed to share the control equally, giving and taking like they’d done it a million times. They just fit together in that way.

Now. My problem was that I couldn’t for the life of them see them together. I know that doesn’t many any sense. I was seeing them separately. Seeing what Eliot does to Sophie, what he does to Parker and what Parker does to her. I was having trouble stepping back and viewing the whole picture. Especially because since Eliot and Sophie are so kinky, and here they were, inviting Parker into their sex life for a night, and Parker… Parker to me isn’t extremely kinky, at least to their altitude. She’s rough, can play some games, but just not the kind of person who dominates forcefully though violent physicality and by words, and at the same time, she is so not the person who lays down and takes that either. And of course, because of how uptight I usually make Sophie into having people find out about her sex life (which, of course, in this story Parker already knew, but knowing is very different from seeing), I made her embarrassed. Thankfully I did establish in the last story that Sophie gets turned on by humiliation, so that worked. Yay me.

I had issues establishing roles in the sex; and it actually ends up switching quite a bit. I tried to keep Eliot and Sophie’s kinky sex life in tact but I watered it down a lot, I know that. And I could make the excuse that they did that for Parker, but its just me not knowing how to write it any other way. Everyone switched the role of being the dominator, though Parker’s own domination was more forceful curiosity. I kind of made Parker how I made her in OT3 fics (Parker/Hardison/Eliot), not so much a dominatrix but still knowing she has control. Though, in my last fic she wasn’t as subtle about knowing she had control as she was in my “Who Say’s You Can Only Have One?” series. Sophie’s domination didn’t last of course, but on the flip side, neither did Eliot’s. It just seemed awkward for me, maybe because I know I had no idea what the hell I was doing. It might be hot for all I know.

I really have no idea if it came out alright. Haha. Though I’m still not done with the story, so I won’t know until I finish and post it. I know I’m being really anal over it, and I know people are just gonna read it and just think “YAY! SEX!” and not think about how deep it all goes as it does with me, but still. I like to have a solid, reasonable, logical explanation of the way they all have sex with each other based on their characteristics… and the fact is, that’s such a weird threesome that I honestly could never think of another way this could happen outside of this story.

Kind of like my Livia/Varia fic. If any of you watch Xena, you know that’s a fucked up pairing. But the way I did it, man I loved the way I did it, one of my favorite stories to date and I just wish I could find another way to do it, because now I love that pairing. But I can’t think of anything logically.

So yeah. This threesome is totally a one time thing. Enjoy it while it lasts. Hopefully I’ll be done with the story soon, but I actually have to work this weekend. Blah. Next weekend though I’ll be working on the TV show – so yay!

Labels: leverage, sex

Before I go into my whole… horrible part of last night, I do want to talk about some good parts.

I made a grand at work on Tuesday night. Actually, technically, I made $1200. But after tipping out our ungodly percentage, I walked with a grand. Dead fucking Tuesday night. I wasn’t enjoying being back – it was awkward for me. But my friend was there, happy I was back… and she found a customer who was willing to take us both to VIP. We thought he’d only be in there a half an hour. Four hours later… well… yeah. Cleanest fucking time in VIP I’ve ever had in that club. Cleanest I’ve ever made that much amount of money. All we seriously did was dance and drink. It was crazy.

I thanked God so much for that. And you know me, I’m a skeptic. But that? I in no way deserved that. My lazy ass didn’t go to a work for a month. An ENTIRE month. I should not have been given that.

Anyway, so. My thing with money though is money + drugs = sexy. So when I get the chance to get free coke, did I say no? Of course I didn’t. Free drugs are free drugs, and as long as it isn’t meth I thought I wouldn’t feel bad about it. After all, since I’ve been “clean” I have done ecstasy once, adderal maybe three times. Nothing major, but you know, just sometimes. So when I get money, for some reason I associate that with drugs. Not even spending it. But to me? Snorting a line or six with a hundred dollar bill feels fucking sexy to me.

Of course the guy giving it to me wants in my pants. I’ve been clear on this matter many times to him and he just doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s not my problem. I’m sick of repeating myself.

Right so. Pretty much passed the fuck out that night… went over my friends house and we played WoW a bit and then passed out. Next day we slept pretty much all fucking day, then get up, went out to lunch, came back, passed out, got up, went to Dave & Busters, ate, played games, went out to a bar.

Come back to their house: sex.

Which, don’t get me wrong, I very much like both of these people. I enjoy having spontaneous threesomes one cause holy HELL can this girl squirt more than I’ve ever seen anyone do in my ENTIRE LIFE, and two, it’s just… IDK. Fun. Ha. Anyway, problem is… once I had woken up I had been doing lines the whole night. I didn’t tell them. They both like for serious don’t do drugs.

Of course she finds out. Knows I’m not drunk, that something else is wrong with me. I tell her. She’s fine with it at first – not happy – but fine. She’s not now, not after my freak out. She called me an addict. I got upset. Really upset. She was trying to help, but I can’t be called an addict.

Coke makes me hyper aware of what’s going on. For all the times I’ve had sex in my life, I try very much to be on something that dulls everything around me. I don’t ever want to know my own sex.

So she totally called me out on faking my orgasm last time. I told her I just do that and make all the damn sound effects so I don’t fuck peoples self esteem up. It’s really really hard to get me off. Seriously. I can’t even get myself off half the time. Anyway, of course I try to compensate by telling them I do enjoy sex, but I enjoy sex for another reason: abuse.

They tried, they really did. But they are not abusive, hurtful people. They couldn’t do it the way I needed.

And then I just… fucking broke. I don’t know how, or why, but I ran into the bathroom and chain-smoked like a bitch to try to get myself to calm down.

She came in, tried to make me talk. I refused, I didn’t want to explain. More pushing and I just told her I can’t be aware of what’s going on when I have sex because I THINK SEX IS WRONG. I know that’s stupid, it makes no sense, but I feel like it’s wrong. Like it’s a dirty thing to do and I shouldn’t be doing it. That I’m disgusting for participating in it. I started crying, and she kept saying its okay, the way I want sex, everyone fantasies about weird shit and I told her no, that she has no fucking clue the fucked up things I fantasize about. There is one that I vowed to never, ever tell another living soul.

And she pushed and pushed and I screamed and I broke and I told her. Its disgusting, vile, horrible shit that makes me feel like I should kill myself for even thinking about.

I will not write it here.

I can’t believe she told me it’s okay. It’s okay that I think about that, that it makes so much sense because of what I’ve been through. And I KNOW that. I know WHY, psychologically I can think that. That doesn’t make it better. I would never do it, I couldn’t. I’d rip my fucking goddamn face off before I ever did something like that. But that doesn’t change how disgusting it is. Thoughts like that should never run through someone’s mind. And the main reason being to just destroy, lash out, revenge, steal someone else’s soul… that’s sick, twisted crap.

I hate myself so much for it. For everything I do or even think about sexually. I hate sex, I really do. Sex just continues to destroy me.

And yet I run my entire fucking life around it.

I have a serious problem. I know I do. I just… fuck. I’m so sick of all my problems. No human being should be allowed to have this many fucking issues. It’s just not right. It’s just not fucking fair.

Labels: abuse, addiction, drugs, sex

I’ve been refraining from writing in here for a bit now. Not because I don’t have anything to write about, cause shit I really do, but maybe because I didn’t know if I was ready to tell anyone yet. For awhile it made me feel dirty, like I was doing something wrong. Which is ridiculous, because out of all the damn things I’ve done in my life, something this normal shouldn’t make me feel dirty.

Forewarning for those of you who aren’t used to my brash honesty: this will be complete TMI. Read at your own risk.

The first thing that made me feel like something was wrong with me was when I started watching porn. Alright, I know most of you are like “Seriously? Porn?” cause hi, I fucking do porn, my pussy is out there for the whole goddamn world to see, but the thing is… I never watch it. Rarely, maybe fucking once every three months. It’s not a normal thing for me, and to be honest I really don’t masturbate all the much. As fucked up as it is, I get off, and no, not literally, writing and reading fics. It doesn’t give me an actual orgasm, but sexually stimulating my mind usually does more for me in the long run. Honestly. I know I’m weird.

Okay, the second thing. It’s been often. Like every night. I don’t masturbate every night to it or anything, but sometimes I just watch it. I have no idea why. I just get the urge to. And it’s never long, maybe a half an hour at best, but it’s still become a reoccurring thing.

Third thing is, and this is the big one: it’s been straight porn. And, hi, not only straight porn, but what I tend to specifically look for is anal, double penetration, and gang bangs.

Right. See, and now you’re all like “Okkayy… yeah, wtf, you lesbian.”

Oh, it gets worse.

I’ve apparently found the sexy in rape fetishes, especially realistic rape fetish porn. By realistic I don’t mean brutal beatings and shit, but porn in which the girl actually puts up a fight, says no, stop, whatever. You have no idea how many rough sex porn people try to classify as “rape” when the girls sitting there being like “Oh, harder, I like it like that.”

Yeah, no. Rape victims don’t do that.

See, you’re all weirded out by me now. I don’t blame you. I’m freaking out myself.

Now, of course, me, being the person who has to study and analyze everything in my own life, and why I’m acting the way I’m acting, goes and looks up rape fetishes. Like, as a study. Apparently, victims of rape sometimes can develop the fetish much later in life. So okay, I don’t feel like such a weirdo on that front anymore.

But there’s still the big glaring issue here: the straight porn. The loads and loads of dicks violating girls straight porn I can’t seem to fucking stop watching.

I imagine this is how normal people feel when they start to come out of the closet. The problem with me is that I accepted from a very early age that I liked women. I’ve never had an attraction to the male species until it started to form about a year or so ago. Slowly, nothing that’s made me really even notice it. This though is hitting me like a shit ton of bricks in the face.

And it’s freaking me out.

You know all those people saying, “I don’t wanna be gay, I don’t wanna be gay”?

Yeah, I’m the opposite. I don’t want to be straight. Or technically bisexual. Trust me, I still love women, very very much. And I do still know that I will eventually spend the rest of my life with one. But this right here freaks me out. Men as an entire species freaks me out when it comes to sex with them.

Okay no, that’s not true. I’ve had sex with men for money.

Let me revise that: men, having sex with a man, for hell, maybe something seemingly even emotional, fucking makes me want to run screaming.

I can’t trust men. I just can’t. I can have men as friends, but even that’s hard for me. Mainly because they can say one thing, just one fucking thing that’s sexual towards me, manages to make me feel uncomfortable, and then I’ll always feel uncomfortable around them. But I don’t say anything, I even sometimes encourage it, because part of my sick twisted brain is convinced that that’s what I’m supposed to do.

The first time I remember doing it was when I was fourteen. He was my friend, I cared about him, had fun with him, but I knew he liked me. I was all over one of my girl friends at the time whenever I was around him, just to make the point that I didn’t like him like that without having to actually say it. But he’s flirt, I’d giggle, I’d do the shit you’re supposed to do.

Until he got me drunk and him and his TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD friend took me to the woods and molested me in his car. And I say molested just because there was no penis inserted. Other things with inserted, shit that I remember fucking hurt all to holy hell and back again. Too many god damn things.

I said “I don’t want to,” a grand total of one time in my drunken half passed out state. Middle of the woods, had no idea where the fuck I was, trashed off my ass, and that fucking instinct just takes over where you realize if you just let it happen then it can’t possibly be worse than what could happen if you try to fight.

Its sick, but that’s what happened. I told my best friend what he did, and you know what she said? “Well you must have acted like you wanted it, because he just wouldn’t do that.” He was her friend too.

Right. I never told anyone about that ever again. Fuck all of that. I probably should tell my mom, she’s hated the bastard since I first started hanging out with him. Worse when he got me into that car accident. But he’s still in jail anyway, so fat lot of good that’ll do.

Anyway, my point is, I can’t handle this whole bi-curious thing I got going on right now. I want it to stop. It freaks me out, and I don’t like it.

And yet I continue to watch this goddamn porn.

Oh and, here’s the great part: integrating my dirty little fetishes into my fanfic. God. My little anal fascination showed up in “The Intervention Job”, and my slight rape/treat me like a whore fetish showed up in “Forgotten.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The fucking end.

Labels: fetish, porn, rape, sex, sexuality, straight

My mac died.

Well, okay, not died exactly, but the screen part broke, and they were gonna charge me like $500 instead. So I did the only thing I could do… I bought a PC for the same damn amount of money. Fucking Apple likes to rob people, I’m sure that’s like the #1 thing they teach their employees.

Rule #1: If something is covered by a customer’s warranty, lie your ass off and sabotage the item until something is outside of their coverage. Water damage is a good, solid, untraceable lie.

It’s not like I’m going to leave it like that though… all broken. Unfortunately, macs seem to have grown on me. What can I say? They’re pretty. Much more organized too. So at some point I’ll fix that, and then just use this for gaming.

Oh, gaming.

My soul has been lost to World of Warcraft. No joke. I knew I stayed away from this game for a reason, see what happens?

I won’t babble on about it, mostly because I’m sure none of you care, but for those that are mildly interested, I’m on the Eredar server, I’m Alliance, and my characters name is Kallysto. Level 23 (at the moment) Human Warlock. Yay me.

Honestly, I blame Leverage.

Leverage mentions something, and I get more curious.

Doctor Who is a good example of that. And now Wow. What’s next? Maybe my soul wasn’t lost to WoW, just lost to Leverage.

Speaking of Leverage, there is so many things that I wish I could bounce around and tell ya’ll, but for now everything under wraps. Soon though… soon. Maybe a month or two, maybe three. Maybe, maybe… but I’m excited.

I interviewed Beth. That was really fun, and an awesome experience. It was only via email with her publicists as a buffer, but regardless, it was nice to be able to ask questions that I wanna know. Plus, a lot of the interviews I’ve read focus only on her role as Parker… and I have other stuff I wanted to know. Like her other projects, and her photography. To be honest I’m really, really interested in her photography. But that might just be because photography is one of my (way too many) creative interests that I pursue.

I had sex last night. Another threesome, with friends I just met. Part of me is actually bothered by that, mainly because I feel like I have a stamp on my head that alerts swinger couples or curious swinger couples that I do threesomes. I’ve had way too many of those in my life. What annoys me though is that out of all the threesomes I’ve had… it’s always been f/m/f. I want a f/f/f damnit.

I’m a bad lesbian though, clearly. Having sex with men just so I can fuck their girlfriends.

I was supposed to be celibate for a year. I made it eight months (which doesn’t include tricks, because that’s so not sex, that’s a job). That’s not too bad. But with all the sex dreams I’ve been plagued with lately, fucking constantly, I obviously needed it.

I can’t say that part of me doesn’t regret it though. Sex for me is always laced with some kind of regret, even the happy, in a relationship, loving sex I have (which, lets face it, isn’t often) is still laced with regret.

Sex isn’t something I actually enjoy. I just do it because I feel like I’m supposed to, or maybe just to prove something. Search for something. Who knows.

Sex to me is just… something to do, something that someone like me has to do.

I kinda wish I could stop, but that doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen any time soon. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.

Labels: beth riesgraf, computer, leverage, sex, wow

Anyone remember saying I hadn't had sex since July? Well, I have now.

I don't think I ever mentioned this girl in my journal before, I believe the first time we met was before I started this thing. It was back when I was hanging out with Dani alot, I remember that.

Well, there's this girl named Sarai. Fucking beautiful. Like, gorgeous. Like one of those supermodel types you always wish you could tap but never get to LOL.

The first time I met her, I was all hung up on wanting to fuck a girl named Mary (yeah, laugh, I do) purely based on the fact that I wanted to fuck someone with the same name as me. Yeah, I'm weird. Regardless of that fact, the first time she worked at the club since I worked there, she came up to me, told me I was beautiful and offered to buy me a drink.

( EDIT: Actually I did write about her before, but it was in my facebook before I started this and only consisted of one sentence cause I was ranting about Mary. "But then last week, after some other random hot ass porn star looking stripper worked there for a night and hit on me right in front of her, buying me drinks and wanting my number, Mary ended up randomly pushing me up against a wall and sticking her tongue down my throat." The random porn star looking stripper would be Sarai LOL)

Hot chicks just don't do that to me. Ever. I'm usually the one initiating stuff like that, so she got my attention. Which is hard to do with my head so far up my own ass most days.

I didn't see her for maybe a couple weeks, a month, after that maybe. I get drunk at work, act like the horny ass fool that I am when I get that way, and basically make it clear all I want from her is to fuck her for a night.

So she doesn't fuck me. I'm pretty sure it was because she knew my original intentions. I really just planned to one fuck, no call back type of thing. It's what I do alot. Or at least what I used to do when I fucked random women all the time.

But after awhile we actually get to talking. While in some ways we're the complete fucking opposite from each other - pretty much day and night basically - in other ways we're also very similar and click well on other levels.

She's intelligent. You all know how I am with that. On top of that, she's a geek. Twilight, Harry Potter, and hell when we were laying in her bed talking last night about human evolution she referenced Star Wars. Seriously, I love a geeky woman. Especially one that's fucking beautiful on top of it.

Well, last night she came to work and we were both talking about how we had to pay our cell phone bills, and I mentioned I can't cause I don't have a ride. She offers to pick me up in the morning, but I remind her neither of us have a phone so we aren't going to be able to get in touch with each other.

Last night was odd. It was only because here I was: high, drunk, horny... but I had no intentions of fucking her at all. We both had a mutual customer who was taking care of us that night, and I just kind of wanted to touch her, but not in a sexual way, if that makes any sense... and just talk to her.

I was starting to like her more than I usually willingly allow myself to like a person. I have intimacy issues, obviously. After Amanda, who destroyed my heart and made me scared to even get close to anyone again, I try not to like people like that. Why I fuck and move on, basically. I mean even me and Diana, we dated, but it was a relationship purely based on sex.

I knew Sarai liked me, that was obvious to me, though I really don't understand why she does. Honestly, the woman is way out of my league, and that's something I don't say very often. I look at her and then I look and me and I don't really get it.

Anyway, we went back to her house last night and took a bath together, talked, layed in bed after, talked some more. I kissed her, kissing led to other stuff, other stuff led to some great sex.

I won't give the details, and I know you all know I'm not one to edit, but this is a public blog, so I'm going to this time. To be honest though, I love the way she has sex... not many women have sex the way she does.

She's very sensual, and most women are afraid to do that because sensuality tends to be looked at as emotional, and that's just not something most people do the first time they have sex with someone. But yet at the same time she'll get rough with me the way I like it. I don't know, it's difficult to explain, but I guess it was just the passion of it. If any of you guys read my fanfiction, the sex most of my characters have in it is the sex I want and enjoy. It's passionate, it's raw, it's sensual. It's the little things that turn me on or get me off, and Sarai did that.

Trust me, I wasn't expecting THAT either.

Anyway, point is, when I had sex with her that's not going to be the end of it. We both clearly like each other alot, and I don't know... I feel like a dumbass attempting to explain it properly because I never can, which is stupid since I'm a writer and write a lot about this stuff. Anyway, my point is, we're probably going to start dating.

So, while I'm absolutely terrified at the thought of letting another person in to my fucked up life, at the same time I know I need it. Sadly, the thing I've been missing over the last couple months wasn't not having sex, it was not having intimacy.

Anyway, we woke up this morning, she turned on the news, and I totally started debating politics (namely, the economy and the democratic parties involved in fucking it up) with her after only a few hours of sleep. LOL. But see, that's why I like her, she can actually hold an interesting conversation. I mean her theories on human evolution actually fascinated me. I love a woman who can stimulate me intellectually.

But then there's things that we are just completely opposite about.

She wakes up early, sticks to her diet, works out, goes tanning, has a million errands to run, always needs to be out doing something in the sunlight.

I stay at home alone, brood in the dark, eat like a pig, am lazy, and hate sunlight with a burning passion.

She's girly, wears alot of pink, loves plastic surgery, and never leaves the house without looking good.

I wear whatever is clean and closest to me, hate my body but have no effort to fix it (surgery or otherwise), and your lucky if I leave the house with my hair brushed and not just thrown up into a ponytail unless I'm going to work our out to like a bar or something.

She told me I might like her now, but just wait until she starts waking me up early, dragging me out of the house to go work out with her, and making me eat right.

I told her she might like me now, but just wait until I tell her to go fuck off when she wakes me up, refuse to leave my computer chair, and eat everything unless I'm dope fucked, in which case I'll eat nothing.

Though, to be honest, I think we might be able to balance each other out in that aspect. She looks like she never slows down to enjoy simple things like just lounging around, and I'm just incredibly lazy as hell.

We could find a medium, who knows. Hell, if she actually can get me to get off my ass and work out, 10 fucking points, man LOL.

Anyway, I just needed to write about that, because I really like her alot and feel the need to gush, for lack of a better term. It'd be nice to just date again.

Labels: dating, sex

It’s an emptiness that feels like it’s hollowing you out. But your skin burns as you scratch at it, trying to rip off the scars that prove your worthlessness. A pattern that means nothing but yet tells a story filled with self loathing and fear. Every mark destroys you; eats at you until there’s nothing left but there’s still the compulsion; the need to try to murder yourself a litter faster than before.

You feel like you’re suffocating but still you can take a breath. Your body feels heavy, but it may only be the weight of your soul. Your feet feel like they’re dragging even though you walk with a steady precision; you know where you’re going – it’s inevitable at this point. You always question the when but not the how; never the why. You know; you’ve always known. It was him and her and them and everyone that paved the road to this place:

Bodies upon bodies and lust upon hate; the weight of one man feels like a hundred because of his number. But it’s required; it’s what you do. It’s what we all do. We play the game and do what’s expected because it’s the way we’ve been taught; the way you’ve been taught. You know how to obey, more than you know how to protest.

The word ‘no’ sounds foreign for all the good it does; most of the time it never makes it out of your mouth anyway. It’s a coy look and a smile; a laugh like it’s a joke even though your skin is crawling because you already know the way this game ends. There is no choice anymore; it’s all a lie. It’s laughable how easy people make it sound; but they don’t know reality. They don’t know what it’s like to feel trapped by repetition and habit.

You learned young, didn’t you?

This is what you do; this is how you do it. And you will always, always give it when it’s needed.

And it broke you.

Fool. You thought it gave you power. Do you feel powerful now? To have lost count? To feel sick every time you touch yourself? But you still persist; let the insanity of this addiction consume you whole and spit you back out again until you lie there; naked and bleeding and wondering yet again why people think this is fun; sexy.

You have the fantasy; consume yourself with it. Of what it’s supposed to be like, what it’s supposed to feel like. So you sit and you write and you run away… but you never run far enough. It’ll never stop, and no matter how much you write about perfection, you will never have it. No matter how much you write about the pain, it doesn’t make it go away.

It was bearable with the distraction. Fill the pipe, spark the flame; watch the smoke swirl in the little glass bowl and taunt you with promises of forgotten nightmares as you inhale and feel the weight be lifted from your shoulders, just a little. But the pipe is broken; the release long gone. What’s left? Your skin can barely handle the torture anymore; mistakes, excuses, and destruction are starting to rise up instead of blend with the background. It’s ugly and that’s something you can’t bear.

You’re ugly on the inside; you must be beautiful on the outside. Fix your hair and pound on the makeup and have cleavage that goes for miles. But that’s not beauty; that’s a sign on your forehead. You make it true; all of it. It’s the way you dress and the way you speak and the habits you’ve fallen into so deep that’s near impossible to climb your way out of. You feel like trash and all you do is make yourself look like beautiful garbage.

So you take a swig of the liquor and swallow more of your new salvation. The room blurs around you but you lather, rinse and repeat as the numbness settles in your chest. It’s a finality; a calm. You aren’t scared, for the first time in your life. It’s an expected closure that you’ve been waiting on bated breath for. You need it; crave it.

Save me.

There are no tears; tears would imply sadness. You aren’t sad; you’re relived. Finally, finally… a promise of peace. The voices stop screaming in your head and you feel yourself smile slightly; the muscles shutting down even in your face making it more difficult. But it doesn’t matter; you know your smiling.

Are you beautiful now?

Tell me, are you beautiful now?

Labels: drugs, sex, suicide

Jesus Christ.

Life. Sigh.

So I just threw a fit like a bloody five year old and took down everything that had to do with Leverage to make a fucking point. I know that’s probably really bratty, but I’m sorry; my feelings were hurt… are hurt. And I think that I was able to last this damn long before I exploded should be an accomplishment in and of it’s self. I mean hell; it’s been months and months of all this repetitive crap. So yeah, pat on the fucking back to me for not blowing up everything sooner.

I can’t talk about this in here like I did on my LJ or my Facebook. Those two are locked to the public, and frankly? So not looking to get sued for slander, here. Or, fuck, whatever. Besides even all of that though, part of me still really cares about this person (though, why? Yeah, I don’t know), and I can’t… fuck, I can’t do the same shit that everyone else did at the beginning. Hurt their feelings like that shit did then. Especially that crap coming from me? That’s… that’s really fucking cruel. Honestly. I was the thing that made all of that not suck as bad. I made the depression go away. Apparently, anyway.

So I can’t be the cause of it. As much as I wish that they would pay attention for two freaking seconds and fix what is so easily repairable if only they bothered… I won’t ever say anything. I can’t. But hey, that’s me putting everybody first. AGAIN.

And it’s not like I didn’t try… but I pussied out. Hardcore. Ugh.

Maybe part of me wishes someone else would do it. Just get their attention and be like “hey, shit just went South; fix?” but I doubt anyone will. Though to be honest I don’t know… fuck, I don’t know if it’ll really all fix. I mean yeah, simple shit, I’ll forgive it all temporarily. But then there’s the nagging in the back of my mind that it was only fixed so they could get what they wanted to come back. That it was meaningless. That I’m being used, or something. But fuck, it’d still be nice to hear, regardless of the intentions.

I just… fuck, I work my ass off. It’s not something that really should be taken for granted because of just the massiveness of it all. And especially not when it’s so known. That I’m so known, or whatever. If I was anonymous, if no one knew, then I wouldn’t expect anything. Maybe that’s my problem. Or the problem. Or something. I’m known, so it’s like yeah, how hard is it to, I don’t know, not fucking blatantly ignore me? It’s been a year this month. A bloody year. Two words is not hard to say…

What’s even worse than that is the fact that I know they say nice things about me to everyone else. So why the hell do I so very clearly not matter when I’m actually around? Is it all just some kind of front? Cause I don’t play like that.

It really all just comes down to the fact that I’m a fucking person. I have a life, feelings, whatever. And frankly? You are not as cool as you think you are, and obviously not as cool as I thought you were if this is how shit’s gonna play out. So right now? This is how it looks when I’m not around. Part of me hopes you give a shit, but I won’t bet money on it.

Though, outside of that whole thing, of course more shit had to be piled on top of it.

Fans. Fans that are just so blatantly fucking mean to me because of, hell, I don’t know. Everyone says jealousy, but I don’t know. It’s really not like my life is anything to envy, here. Really, people. And the fact that people feel the need to tear me down and be cruel really upsets me. I do so fucking much for this fandom. You think I got noticed because I sat on my ass and did nothing? No. I work my ass off to promote the show in any way that I can. To make things that are enjoyable for other fans. So you know what? Yeah, I think I deserve the little bit of attention I get. And maybe, if you weren’t such a lazy complaining asshole, and actually did shit to get you noticed, than you would be too. Nothing is free, idiot. You work to get the things you want.

Oh, and by the way, trying to ruin a great memory for me by saying I’m a liar? Fuck off. That’s just ridiculous, mainly because I have a truth problem. Me lying is kind of fucking laughable if you even knew me.

So this is me being a brat and showing the fandom what it’s like when I’m not around. If I had the effort I’d make all my fic entries in my LJ private to prove my point further, but I figured it’d just be pointless since I can’t find a way to get rid of all my sit on FF.net and still be able to bring it back later when everything has cooled off some.

But moving on from fandom drama…

I watched some girl have sex for the first time for money. Well, not watched, but I was there. I had her guys friend. And god, it’s difficult to watch. Just cause it’s always so confusing at first, and this girl afterwards was like “he was really sweet to me…” blah blah. I was like “NO! He PAYED you to have sex with him. He is nothing but a trick! God, don’t ever personalize it.”

Oh, and she let him kiss her. Negative. You never, ever kiss. That’s too intimate. Sigh. When guys try to kiss me I usually tell them it’s flu season. Because oddly enough I only have to do this crap in the winter…

Oh and the girl I’ve been fucking, well, the girl I’ve been fucking with her boyfriend… totally freaked out on me yesterday for leaving with that customer. She got all possessive. I was like wtf? And then she told me I was only the second person she’s ever slept with. It’s hard for her to just… I don’t know, not care.

So yeah, we’re not gonna fuck anymore.

And I should be writing my article on “Leverage” but instead I’ve been watching HIMYM all damn day. Oh well, it just needs to be up by Friday morning. Guess I’ll do it when I wake up. I always wait to do this shit to the last minute lol. But right now I just wanna forget about “Leverage” for a minute.

Lord. Just. Life. God.

Labels: leverage, sex, stripping, whores

Overlapping my sexual writing styles for this last story was weird for me. Mainly because while I have specific set ways on how each pairing has sex with each other, I couldn’t think of a solid one for Parker/Sophie/Eliot. It’s just an odd threesome, you think? One that no one ever really thinks of, and only came about because of Parker/Sophie hints in my last Sophie/Eliot story. Continuation of that. If I knew how hard it would be to logically write them all to that point, I might have said fuck it and never started . HA. I’m serious. Once again, what was supposed to be a short story is now up to being 45 fucking pages long (and still not finished).

To explain though, when I write:

Eliot/Sophie; it’s rough, dominating. Full of masochism and anger mixed with both love and passion. It’s kinky, it’s wild, it’s in every way so very not watered down. Eliot dominates very fiercely, both with words and actions. It’s violent. Sophie can dominate too, but she’s not very good at it. For being so good at manipulating people as a grifter, she can’t seem to manipulate Eliot. Instead, she takes the opposite route; for one who’s always in control, she surrenders all of it to him: the one person she knows she can trust it with because of Eliot’s own control over his violence. She wants to be hurt, but she wants to feel safe at the same time. That’s not to say she doesn’t try to dominate him, but in the end usually succumbs to Eliot’s needs. That said, they can have romantic, soft sex, but it’s rare.

Parker/Sophie; I’ve probably done it all with Parker/Sophie, being the pairing I wrote very heavily and primarily during season one. I’ve done love, I’ve done anger, I’ve done kink. But out of all of the stories I’ve done, the main route I usually take is usually just... hard passion. Parker loves Sophie; in so many way’s she’s like the mother she never had (and yes, I realize how kinky and a bit fucked up that in it’s self seems, but bear with me). That love, when put in a sexual situation, makes Parker get very, very attached (which in turn usually makes her the submissive). Now Sophie, on the other hand… Sophie does care about Parker. She worries about her, watches out for her, but when put in a sexual situation with her, she tends to be blinded by her own selfishness. She wants it all without all the headaches that being with Parker could possibly make for her. So she always suppresses it, makes Parker keep everything a secret, keeps a firm distance from getting too close, and gets frustrated and angry when Parker doesn’t understand why. But there is a part of Sophie that loves her, that’s maybe even in love with her a little bit, and while near the end of my stories that tends to come out, during sex it’s still very much hidden under the layers. Their sex is a little rough usually, dom/sub without the massive kink (you’re just usually very aware of who is in control, even though its never spoken), and not anywhere close to the decibel of Eliot and Sophie’s is.

Parker/Eliot; I’ve only done this once, very briefly, just for the sin “Lust” in my Seven Deadly Sins short stories. Just rough fuck and forget against the wall in the bathroom of an airplane. Very unattached, emotionless. They used each other to get off and that was that, basically. There was no point to talk about it afterwards, in their mind. Get some, get gone. They both seemed to share the control equally, giving and taking like they’d done it a million times. They just fit together in that way.

Now. My problem was that I couldn’t for the life of them see them together. I know that doesn’t many any sense. I was seeing them separately. Seeing what Eliot does to Sophie, what he does to Parker and what Parker does to her. I was having trouble stepping back and viewing the whole picture. Especially because since Eliot and Sophie are so kinky, and here they were, inviting Parker into their sex life for a night, and Parker… Parker to me isn’t extremely kinky, at least to their altitude. She’s rough, can play some games, but just not the kind of person who dominates forcefully though violent physicality and by words, and at the same time, she is so not the person who lays down and takes that either. And of course, because of how uptight I usually make Sophie into having people find out about her sex life (which, of course, in this story Parker already knew, but knowing is very different from seeing), I made her embarrassed. Thankfully I did establish in the last story that Sophie gets turned on by humiliation, so that worked. Yay me.

I had issues establishing roles in the sex; and it actually ends up switching quite a bit. I tried to keep Eliot and Sophie’s kinky sex life in tact but I watered it down a lot, I know that. And I could make the excuse that they did that for Parker, but its just me not knowing how to write it any other way. Everyone switched the role of being the dominator, though Parker’s own domination was more forceful curiosity. I kind of made Parker how I made her in OT3 fics (Parker/Hardison/Eliot), not so much a dominatrix but still knowing she has control. Though, in my last fic she wasn’t as subtle about knowing she had control as she was in my “Who Say’s You Can Only Have One?” series. Sophie’s domination didn’t last of course, but on the flip side, neither did Eliot’s. It just seemed awkward for me, maybe because I know I had no idea what the hell I was doing. It might be hot for all I know.

I really have no idea if it came out alright. Haha. Though I’m still not done with the story, so I won’t know until I finish and post it. I know I’m being really anal over it, and I know people are just gonna read it and just think “YAY! SEX!” and not think about how deep it all goes as it does with me, but still. I like to have a solid, reasonable, logical explanation of the way they all have sex with each other based on their characteristics… and the fact is, that’s such a weird threesome that I honestly could never think of another way this could happen outside of this story.

Kind of like my Livia/Varia fic. If any of you watch Xena, you know that’s a fucked up pairing. But the way I did it, man I loved the way I did it, one of my favorite stories to date and I just wish I could find another way to do it, because now I love that pairing. But I can’t think of anything logically.

So yeah. This threesome is totally a one time thing. Enjoy it while it lasts. Hopefully I’ll be done with the story soon, but I actually have to work this weekend. Blah. Next weekend though I’ll be working on the TV show – so yay!

Labels: leverage, sex

Before I go into my whole… horrible part of last night, I do want to talk about some good parts.

I made a grand at work on Tuesday night. Actually, technically, I made $1200. But after tipping out our ungodly percentage, I walked with a grand. Dead fucking Tuesday night. I wasn’t enjoying being back – it was awkward for me. But my friend was there, happy I was back… and she found a customer who was willing to take us both to VIP. We thought he’d only be in there a half an hour. Four hours later… well… yeah. Cleanest fucking time in VIP I’ve ever had in that club. Cleanest I’ve ever made that much amount of money. All we seriously did was dance and drink. It was crazy.

I thanked God so much for that. And you know me, I’m a skeptic. But that? I in no way deserved that. My lazy ass didn’t go to a work for a month. An ENTIRE month. I should not have been given that.

Anyway, so. My thing with money though is money + drugs = sexy. So when I get the chance to get free coke, did I say no? Of course I didn’t. Free drugs are free drugs, and as long as it isn’t meth I thought I wouldn’t feel bad about it. After all, since I’ve been “clean” I have done ecstasy once, adderal maybe three times. Nothing major, but you know, just sometimes. So when I get money, for some reason I associate that with drugs. Not even spending it. But to me? Snorting a line or six with a hundred dollar bill feels fucking sexy to me.

Of course the guy giving it to me wants in my pants. I’ve been clear on this matter many times to him and he just doesn’t seem to get it. But that’s not my problem. I’m sick of repeating myself.

Right so. Pretty much passed the fuck out that night… went over my friends house and we played WoW a bit and then passed out. Next day we slept pretty much all fucking day, then get up, went out to lunch, came back, passed out, got up, went to Dave & Busters, ate, played games, went out to a bar.

Come back to their house: sex.

Which, don’t get me wrong, I very much like both of these people. I enjoy having spontaneous threesomes one cause holy HELL can this girl squirt more than I’ve ever seen anyone do in my ENTIRE LIFE, and two, it’s just… IDK. Fun. Ha. Anyway, problem is… once I had woken up I had been doing lines the whole night. I didn’t tell them. They both like for serious don’t do drugs.

Of course she finds out. Knows I’m not drunk, that something else is wrong with me. I tell her. She’s fine with it at first – not happy – but fine. She’s not now, not after my freak out. She called me an addict. I got upset. Really upset. She was trying to help, but I can’t be called an addict.

Coke makes me hyper aware of what’s going on. For all the times I’ve had sex in my life, I try very much to be on something that dulls everything around me. I don’t ever want to know my own sex.

So she totally called me out on faking my orgasm last time. I told her I just do that and make all the damn sound effects so I don’t fuck peoples self esteem up. It’s really really hard to get me off. Seriously. I can’t even get myself off half the time. Anyway, of course I try to compensate by telling them I do enjoy sex, but I enjoy sex for another reason: abuse.

They tried, they really did. But they are not abusive, hurtful people. They couldn’t do it the way I needed.

And then I just… fucking broke. I don’t know how, or why, but I ran into the bathroom and chain-smoked like a bitch to try to get myself to calm down.

She came in, tried to make me talk. I refused, I didn’t want to explain. More pushing and I just told her I can’t be aware of what’s going on when I have sex because I THINK SEX IS WRONG. I know that’s stupid, it makes no sense, but I feel like it’s wrong. Like it’s a dirty thing to do and I shouldn’t be doing it. That I’m disgusting for participating in it. I started crying, and she kept saying its okay, the way I want sex, everyone fantasies about weird shit and I told her no, that she has no fucking clue the fucked up things I fantasize about. There is one that I vowed to never, ever tell another living soul.

And she pushed and pushed and I screamed and I broke and I told her. Its disgusting, vile, horrible shit that makes me feel like I should kill myself for even thinking about.

I will not write it here.

I can’t believe she told me it’s okay. It’s okay that I think about that, that it makes so much sense because of what I’ve been through. And I KNOW that. I know WHY, psychologically I can think that. That doesn’t make it better. I would never do it, I couldn’t. I’d rip my fucking goddamn face off before I ever did something like that. But that doesn’t change how disgusting it is. Thoughts like that should never run through someone’s mind. And the main reason being to just destroy, lash out, revenge, steal someone else’s soul… that’s sick, twisted crap.

I hate myself so much for it. For everything I do or even think about sexually. I hate sex, I really do. Sex just continues to destroy me.

And yet I run my entire fucking life around it.

I have a serious problem. I know I do. I just… fuck. I’m so sick of all my problems. No human being should be allowed to have this many fucking issues. It’s just not right. It’s just not fucking fair.

Labels: abuse, addiction, drugs, sex

I’ve been refraining from writing in here for a bit now. Not because I don’t have anything to write about, cause shit I really do, but maybe because I didn’t know if I was ready to tell anyone yet. For awhile it made me feel dirty, like I was doing something wrong. Which is ridiculous, because out of all the damn things I’ve done in my life, something this normal shouldn’t make me feel dirty.

Forewarning for those of you who aren’t used to my brash honesty: this will be complete TMI. Read at your own risk.

The first thing that made me feel like something was wrong with me was when I started watching porn. Alright, I know most of you are like “Seriously? Porn?” cause hi, I fucking do porn, my pussy is out there for the whole goddamn world to see, but the thing is… I never watch it. Rarely, maybe fucking once every three months. It’s not a normal thing for me, and to be honest I really don’t masturbate all the much. As fucked up as it is, I get off, and no, not literally, writing and reading fics. It doesn’t give me an actual orgasm, but sexually stimulating my mind usually does more for me in the long run. Honestly. I know I’m weird.

Okay, the second thing. It’s been often. Like every night. I don’t masturbate every night to it or anything, but sometimes I just watch it. I have no idea why. I just get the urge to. And it’s never long, maybe a half an hour at best, but it’s still become a reoccurring thing.

Third thing is, and this is the big one: it’s been straight porn. And, hi, not only straight porn, but what I tend to specifically look for is anal, double penetration, and gang bangs.

Right. See, and now you’re all like “Okkayy… yeah, wtf, you lesbian.”

Oh, it gets worse.

I’ve apparently found the sexy in rape fetishes, especially realistic rape fetish porn. By realistic I don’t mean brutal beatings and shit, but porn in which the girl actually puts up a fight, says no, stop, whatever. You have no idea how many rough sex porn people try to classify as “rape” when the girls sitting there being like “Oh, harder, I like it like that.”

Yeah, no. Rape victims don’t do that.

See, you’re all weirded out by me now. I don’t blame you. I’m freaking out myself.

Now, of course, me, being the person who has to study and analyze everything in my own life, and why I’m acting the way I’m acting, goes and looks up rape fetishes. Like, as a study. Apparently, victims of rape sometimes can develop the fetish much later in life. So okay, I don’t feel like such a weirdo on that front anymore.

But there’s still the big glaring issue here: the straight porn. The loads and loads of dicks violating girls straight porn I can’t seem to fucking stop watching.

I imagine this is how normal people feel when they start to come out of the closet. The problem with me is that I accepted from a very early age that I liked women. I’ve never had an attraction to the male species until it started to form about a year or so ago. Slowly, nothing that’s made me really even notice it. This though is hitting me like a shit ton of bricks in the face.

And it’s freaking me out.

You know all those people saying, “I don’t wanna be gay, I don’t wanna be gay”?

Yeah, I’m the opposite. I don’t want to be straight. Or technically bisexual. Trust me, I still love women, very very much. And I do still know that I will eventually spend the rest of my life with one. But this right here freaks me out. Men as an entire species freaks me out when it comes to sex with them.

Okay no, that’s not true. I’ve had sex with men for money.

Let me revise that: men, having sex with a man, for hell, maybe something seemingly even emotional, fucking makes me want to run screaming.

I can’t trust men. I just can’t. I can have men as friends, but even that’s hard for me. Mainly because they can say one thing, just one fucking thing that’s sexual towards me, manages to make me feel uncomfortable, and then I’ll always feel uncomfortable around them. But I don’t say anything, I even sometimes encourage it, because part of my sick twisted brain is convinced that that’s what I’m supposed to do.

The first time I remember doing it was when I was fourteen. He was my friend, I cared about him, had fun with him, but I knew he liked me. I was all over one of my girl friends at the time whenever I was around him, just to make the point that I didn’t like him like that without having to actually say it. But he’s flirt, I’d giggle, I’d do the shit you’re supposed to do.

Until he got me drunk and him and his TWENTY ONE YEAR OLD friend took me to the woods and molested me in his car. And I say molested just because there was no penis inserted. Other things with inserted, shit that I remember fucking hurt all to holy hell and back again. Too many god damn things.

I said “I don’t want to,” a grand total of one time in my drunken half passed out state. Middle of the woods, had no idea where the fuck I was, trashed off my ass, and that fucking instinct just takes over where you realize if you just let it happen then it can’t possibly be worse than what could happen if you try to fight.

Its sick, but that’s what happened. I told my best friend what he did, and you know what she said? “Well you must have acted like you wanted it, because he just wouldn’t do that.” He was her friend too.

Right. I never told anyone about that ever again. Fuck all of that. I probably should tell my mom, she’s hated the bastard since I first started hanging out with him. Worse when he got me into that car accident. But he’s still in jail anyway, so fat lot of good that’ll do.

Anyway, my point is, I can’t handle this whole bi-curious thing I got going on right now. I want it to stop. It freaks me out, and I don’t like it.

And yet I continue to watch this goddamn porn.

Oh and, here’s the great part: integrating my dirty little fetishes into my fanfic. God. My little anal fascination showed up in “The Intervention Job”, and my slight rape/treat me like a whore fetish showed up in “Forgotten.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The fucking end.

Labels: fetish, porn, rape, sex, sexuality, straight

My mac died.

Well, okay, not died exactly, but the screen part broke, and they were gonna charge me like $500 instead. So I did the only thing I could do… I bought a PC for the same damn amount of money. Fucking Apple likes to rob people, I’m sure that’s like the #1 thing they teach their employees.

Rule #1: If something is covered by a customer’s warranty, lie your ass off and sabotage the item until something is outside of their coverage. Water damage is a good, solid, untraceable lie.

It’s not like I’m going to leave it like that though… all broken. Unfortunately, macs seem to have grown on me. What can I say? They’re pretty. Much more organized too. So at some point I’ll fix that, and then just use this for gaming.

Oh, gaming.

My soul has been lost to World of Warcraft. No joke. I knew I stayed away from this game for a reason, see what happens?

I won’t babble on about it, mostly because I’m sure none of you care, but for those that are mildly interested, I’m on the Eredar server, I’m Alliance, and my characters name is Kallysto. Level 23 (at the moment) Human Warlock. Yay me.

Honestly, I blame Leverage.

Leverage mentions something, and I get more curious.

Doctor Who is a good example of that. And now Wow. What’s next? Maybe my soul wasn’t lost to WoW, just lost to Leverage.

Speaking of Leverage, there is so many things that I wish I could bounce around and tell ya’ll, but for now everything under wraps. Soon though… soon. Maybe a month or two, maybe three. Maybe, maybe… but I’m excited.

I interviewed Beth. That was really fun, and an awesome experience. It was only via email with her publicists as a buffer, but regardless, it was nice to be able to ask questions that I wanna know. Plus, a lot of the interviews I’ve read focus only on her role as Parker… and I have other stuff I wanted to know. Like her other projects, and her photography. To be honest I’m really, really interested in her photography. But that might just be because photography is one of my (way too many) creative interests that I pursue.

I had sex last night. Another threesome, with friends I just met. Part of me is actually bothered by that, mainly because I feel like I have a stamp on my head that alerts swinger couples or curious swinger couples that I do threesomes. I’ve had way too many of those in my life. What annoys me though is that out of all the threesomes I’ve had… it’s always been f/m/f. I want a f/f/f damnit.

I’m a bad lesbian though, clearly. Having sex with men just so I can fuck their girlfriends.

I was supposed to be celibate for a year. I made it eight months (which doesn’t include tricks, because that’s so not sex, that’s a job). That’s not too bad. But with all the sex dreams I’ve been plagued with lately, fucking constantly, I obviously needed it.

I can’t say that part of me doesn’t regret it though. Sex for me is always laced with some kind of regret, even the happy, in a relationship, loving sex I have (which, lets face it, isn’t often) is still laced with regret.

Sex isn’t something I actually enjoy. I just do it because I feel like I’m supposed to, or maybe just to prove something. Search for something. Who knows.

Sex to me is just… something to do, something that someone like me has to do.

I kinda wish I could stop, but that doesn’t look like it’s gonna happen any time soon. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.

Labels: beth riesgraf, computer, leverage, sex, wow

Anyone remember saying I hadn't had sex since July? Well, I have now.

I don't think I ever mentioned this girl in my journal before, I believe the first time we met was before I started this thing. It was back when I was hanging out with Dani alot, I remember that.

Well, there's this girl named Sarai. Fucking beautiful. Like, gorgeous. Like one of those supermodel types you always wish you could tap but never get to LOL.

The first time I met her, I was all hung up on wanting to fuck a girl named Mary (yeah, laugh, I do) purely based on the fact that I wanted to fuck someone with the same name as me. Yeah, I'm weird. Regardless of that fact, the first time she worked at the club since I worked there, she came up to me, told me I was beautiful and offered to buy me a drink.

( EDIT: Actually I did write about her before, but it was in my facebook before I started this and only consisted of one sentence cause I was ranting about Mary. "But then last week, after some other random hot ass porn star looking stripper worked there for a night and hit on me right in front of her, buying me drinks and wanting my number, Mary ended up randomly pushing me up against a wall and sticking her tongue down my throat." The random porn star looking stripper would be Sarai LOL)

Hot chicks just don't do that to me. Ever. I'm usually the one initiating stuff like that, so she got my attention. Which is hard to do with my head so far up my own ass most days.

I didn't see her for maybe a couple weeks, a month, after that maybe. I get drunk at work, act like the horny ass fool that I am when I get that way, and basically make it clear all I want from her is to fuck her for a night.

So she doesn't fuck me. I'm pretty sure it was because she knew my original intentions. I really just planned to one fuck, no call back type of thing. It's what I do alot. Or at least what I used to do when I fucked random women all the time.

But after awhile we actually get to talking. While in some ways we're the complete fucking opposite from each other - pretty much day and night basically - in other ways we're also very similar and click well on other levels.

She's intelligent. You all know how I am with that. On top of that, she's a geek. Twilight, Harry Potter, and hell when we were laying in her bed talking last night about human evolution she referenced Star Wars. Seriously, I love a geeky woman. Especially one that's fucking beautiful on top of it.

Well, last night she came to work and we were both talking about how we had to pay our cell phone bills, and I mentioned I can't cause I don't have a ride. She offers to pick me up in the morning, but I remind her neither of us have a phone so we aren't going to be able to get in touch with each other.

Last night was odd. It was only because here I was: high, drunk, horny... but I had no intentions of fucking her at all. We both had a mutual customer who was taking care of us that night, and I just kind of wanted to touch her, but not in a sexual way, if that makes any sense... and just talk to her.

I was starting to like her more than I usually willingly allow myself to like a person. I have intimacy issues, obviously. After Amanda, who destroyed my heart and made me scared to even get close to anyone again, I try not to like people like that. Why I fuck and move on, basically. I mean even me and Diana, we dated, but it was a relationship purely based on sex.

I knew Sarai liked me, that was obvious to me, though I really don't understand why she does. Honestly, the woman is way out of my league, and that's something I don't say very often. I look at her and then I look and me and I don't really get it.

Anyway, we went back to her house last night and took a bath together, talked, layed in bed after, talked some more. I kissed her, kissing led to other stuff, other stuff led to some great sex.

I won't give the details, and I know you all know I'm not one to edit, but this is a public blog, so I'm going to this time. To be honest though, I love the way she has sex... not many women have sex the way she does.

She's very sensual, and most women are afraid to do that because sensuality tends to be looked at as emotional, and that's just not something most people do the first time they have sex with someone. But yet at the same time she'll get rough with me the way I like it. I don't know, it's difficult to explain, but I guess it was just the passion of it. If any of you guys read my fanfiction, the sex most of my characters have in it is the sex I want and enjoy. It's passionate, it's raw, it's sensual. It's the little things that turn me on or get me off, and Sarai did that.

Trust me, I wasn't expecting THAT either.

Anyway, point is, when I had sex with her that's not going to be the end of it. We both clearly like each other alot, and I don't know... I feel like a dumbass attempting to explain it properly because I never can, which is stupid since I'm a writer and write a lot about this stuff. Anyway, my point is, we're probably going to start dating.

So, while I'm absolutely terrified at the thought of letting another person in to my fucked up life, at the same time I know I need it. Sadly, the thing I've been missing over the last couple months wasn't not having sex, it was not having intimacy.

Anyway, we woke up this morning, she turned on the news, and I totally started debating politics (namely, the economy and the democratic parties involved in fucking it up) with her after only a few hours of sleep. LOL. But see, that's why I like her, she can actually hold an interesting conversation. I mean her theories on human evolution actually fascinated me. I love a woman who can stimulate me intellectually.

But then there's things that we are just completely opposite about.

She wakes up early, sticks to her diet, works out, goes tanning, has a million errands to run, always needs to be out doing something in the sunlight.

I stay at home alone, brood in the dark, eat like a pig, am lazy, and hate sunlight with a burning passion.

She's girly, wears alot of pink, loves plastic surgery, and never leaves the house without looking good.

I wear whatever is clean and closest to me, hate my body but have no effort to fix it (surgery or otherwise), and your lucky if I leave the house with my hair brushed and not just thrown up into a ponytail unless I'm going to work our out to like a bar or something.

She told me I might like her now, but just wait until she starts waking me up early, dragging me out of the house to go work out with her, and making me eat right.

I told her she might like me now, but just wait until I tell her to go fuck off when she wakes me up, refuse to leave my computer chair, and eat everything unless I'm dope fucked, in which case I'll eat nothing.

Though, to be honest, I think we might be able to balance each other out in that aspect. She looks like she never slows down to enjoy simple things like just lounging around, and I'm just incredibly lazy as hell.

We could find a medium, who knows. Hell, if she actually can get me to get off my ass and work out, 10 fucking points, man LOL.

Anyway, I just needed to write about that, because I really like her alot and feel the need to gush, for lack of a better term. It'd be nice to just date again.

Labels: dating, sex

My name is Mary. I'm a 24 year old creative mess. I like to tell stories in anyway that I can, though mostly through visual artwork. I enjoy film editing, writing, modeling, photography, dancing, and website design. I'm a lesbian. I'm bipolar. I'm stronger than I usually give myself credit for. I'm a recovering drug addict. I'm passionate as all hell. I'm a beautiful disaster. I want to be free. I want to fly.

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