Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Secrets @ 10:04 PM
I have this issue where I like to ruin my own life. It’s like some sick kind of game with me.
I haven’t left my house in a week. I need to look for a job, but I’m terrified to go outside. And would you like to know why? Because Mary has been half-lying to everyone for about a week and a half now, and all the shame that goes along with it is starting to eat me alive.
Not last Saturday, but the one before, I started feigning. Bad. Like shaking, I needed it. Found one of the local corner drug dealers, gave him $40, he handed me a baggie, I put it in my purse, not looking at it because we were on Moreland freaking Ave. That was that, done.
I went home, and felt guilty like fuck for buying it. Doing it would have disappointed so many people I made promises to. But I needed it, and I hate that somehow that makes my word worth jack. So I wait until Nicole leaves (this was when I was living with her) get some old school ghetto ass tin foil and hollow out a bic pen, get the dope and… it was sugar.
The bastard sold me sugar.
I didn’t even have to taste the shit, you can just tell. Who the hell tries to pass off sugar as meth? The shit isn’t cut the same at all. I wish I looked at it before, but another part of me is glad I didn’t. Though I want my $40 back.
Which, to be fair, I totally had that coming, and I know it’s the universes way of telling me that I was being a fuck up, but that won’t help HIS cause any when I see him. I tend to get violent when people rip me off with drugs.
But that’s why I haven’t left my house. I’m just convinced I’ll do it again. Feigning here in my own private hell is fine, but I can’t go out in the world and need it, because automatically I’ll try to find it. Shit just falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Some guy asked me what drugs I did in normal conversation (yeah, seriously, these are the people I attract) about a month ago and automatically I said meth, even though I had been clean at the point for a little bit.
The worst part about all of this is that because I won’t leave, I haven’t looked for a job. I’m seriously past fucked right now, and I feel like I’m almost trying to force myself back into stripping, because if things get that bad then that’s what I’ll do.
I don’t want to.
Yeah, I miss getting pretty. I missed it today when I was getting pretty for my webcam chat. I never get pretty anymore. I either need to be in that kind of environment (strip clubs) where I expect to be hit on and use it my advantage, or else I just can’t go anywhere looking good because I don’t want to be hit on. Why I enjoy online attention – no one can touch you. I don’t’ feel awkward by it.
I’ve been so over emotional lately it’s been driving me insane, and now I know it’s due to my period… but I still feel so stupid about freaking out. What does it even matter if some woman was freaked out by me? I mean really. I do what I do because I love it, and I enjoy it, but at the same time it made it seem like it was all worth crap. I cried a bit, like a stupid prick really, and that was even more stupid because in the end I took it the wrong way. Like completely the wrong way. No freaking out at all.
I’m such an idiot. I don’t ever want to see her. God. Really don’t. I’m such a jackass sometimes. Like it should even
matter to me.
I’m mad at myself because it did though. It was kind of like, when you work so hard at something and then the person it was for tells you it’s shit, kind of thing.
But it isn’t shit. It was actually a really good thing, which makes me feel even
stupider for all the previous shit. It was helpful, good. Which makes me feel good now, but still feel stupid that that should even make a difference either.
Why do I care so much? I used to not give half a shit. I really didn’t. I'm turning into one of those people I hate in regards to the subject, and I don't want to be that person. It makes me want to back off from it all just so I don't turn into something I hate, but yet at the same time I know now that I
can't because if I did that then the good might turn into bad. It's complicated. Self esteem issue basically.
And it gets even more confusing for me, because at one point while I'm calling myself and idiot for being that way, one the other hand, since it helped I feel almost like we're even, since she had helped me out previously in regards to something else. But really its all helping without knowing we're doing so, so it's pretty ridiculous. Even more ridiculous if you even knew who I was talking about. It's just all dumb, yet strangely symmetrical in a good way.
I obviously can't make a decision on how I feel about the matter. Clearly.
And it’s horrible, all of this, big parts of my life are such a secret, and I’ve always been such an open person. I always talk about everything, no matter if it’s too TMI or anything of that sort. And stuff that upsets me, or stuff that makes me happy, I like to share. But I just can’t.
And I try without really saying anything. Just get it out there, but yet dance around it so much all it does is confuse everyone around me. I get so many questions on Twitter when I post things like that, and while none of them are ever really close to right, I feel bad because I can’t answer. I have to ignore, or say “I can’t talk about it,” which in turn makes me sound like some snob, and kick myself for even trying to express my feelings about what is going on in my life at that moment.
I share everything… not doing that is really
really hard for me. I didn’t know how hard it was going to be until now. It’s so everyday for me now, that I don’t even see why it should matter… but I know
exactly why it matters for the same reason. So I try to shut my mouth, dance around things but never talk about them.
All of you have no idea what I’m talking about, I realize this, but this is my journal, and I just need to do this for me. When I let things out I feel so much better, and it just… sucks that I can’t.
It sucked that I cried and couldn’t talk to anyone about it because of how I knew. It sucked that I got really happy after that and couln’t say anything about that either. It sucks when I have something I want to show off, but can’t. I’m so proud of myself for something I’m doing right now, and I really enjoy it, but I can never say anything. It's really all due to my large identity crisis of Sapphire Smoke vs. Mary. I used to regard us as two separate people, but we're just not. I am Sapphire Smoke. I write and talk about my real life as Sapphire Smoke. It's just a name, not a different persona, and that's what's become the problem. I don't know who I am anymore, and one is allowed to do stuff and the other isn't. I wish I did have MPD or something, would make this easier. No clashing.
I hate secrets.
My own secrets I can’t keep to save my life, but when they involve another person or more than one person I have to. It’s not just my secret to share.
It’s just hard. I’ve been beating myself up over a lot of shit recently.
I just laugh when I look in the mirror. I’m so fucking pretty that it’s just so pathetic sometimes about who I am underneath the physical.
I feel like shit right now. I want to cry again, but that’s probably just me PMSing again.
Labels: drugs, meth, secrets
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Secrets @ 10:04 PM
I have this issue where I like to ruin my own life. It’s like some sick kind of game with me.
I haven’t left my house in a week. I need to look for a job, but I’m terrified to go outside. And would you like to know why? Because Mary has been half-lying to everyone for about a week and a half now, and all the shame that goes along with it is starting to eat me alive.
Not last Saturday, but the one before, I started feigning. Bad. Like shaking, I needed it. Found one of the local corner drug dealers, gave him $40, he handed me a baggie, I put it in my purse, not looking at it because we were on Moreland freaking Ave. That was that, done.
I went home, and felt guilty like fuck for buying it. Doing it would have disappointed so many people I made promises to. But I needed it, and I hate that somehow that makes my word worth jack. So I wait until Nicole leaves (this was when I was living with her) get some old school ghetto ass tin foil and hollow out a bic pen, get the dope and… it was sugar.
The bastard sold me sugar.
I didn’t even have to taste the shit, you can just tell. Who the hell tries to pass off sugar as meth? The shit isn’t cut the same at all. I wish I looked at it before, but another part of me is glad I didn’t. Though I want my $40 back.
Which, to be fair, I totally had that coming, and I know it’s the universes way of telling me that I was being a fuck up, but that won’t help HIS cause any when I see him. I tend to get violent when people rip me off with drugs.
But that’s why I haven’t left my house. I’m just convinced I’ll do it again. Feigning here in my own private hell is fine, but I can’t go out in the world and need it, because automatically I’ll try to find it. Shit just falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. Some guy asked me what drugs I did in normal conversation (yeah, seriously, these are the people I attract) about a month ago and automatically I said meth, even though I had been clean at the point for a little bit.
The worst part about all of this is that because I won’t leave, I haven’t looked for a job. I’m seriously past fucked right now, and I feel like I’m almost trying to force myself back into stripping, because if things get that bad then that’s what I’ll do.
I don’t want to.
Yeah, I miss getting pretty. I missed it today when I was getting pretty for my webcam chat. I never get pretty anymore. I either need to be in that kind of environment (strip clubs) where I expect to be hit on and use it my advantage, or else I just can’t go anywhere looking good because I don’t want to be hit on. Why I enjoy online attention – no one can touch you. I don’t’ feel awkward by it.
I’ve been so over emotional lately it’s been driving me insane, and now I know it’s due to my period… but I still feel so stupid about freaking out. What does it even matter if some woman was freaked out by me? I mean really. I do what I do because I love it, and I enjoy it, but at the same time it made it seem like it was all worth crap. I cried a bit, like a stupid prick really, and that was even more stupid because in the end I took it the wrong way. Like completely the wrong way. No freaking out at all.
I’m such an idiot. I don’t ever want to see her. God. Really don’t. I’m such a jackass sometimes. Like it should even
matter to me.
I’m mad at myself because it did though. It was kind of like, when you work so hard at something and then the person it was for tells you it’s shit, kind of thing.
But it isn’t shit. It was actually a really good thing, which makes me feel even
stupider for all the previous shit. It was helpful, good. Which makes me feel good now, but still feel stupid that that should even make a difference either.
Why do I care so much? I used to not give half a shit. I really didn’t. I'm turning into one of those people I hate in regards to the subject, and I don't want to be that person. It makes me want to back off from it all just so I don't turn into something I hate, but yet at the same time I know now that I
can't because if I did that then the good might turn into bad. It's complicated. Self esteem issue basically.
And it gets even more confusing for me, because at one point while I'm calling myself and idiot for being that way, one the other hand, since it helped I feel almost like we're even, since she had helped me out previously in regards to something else. But really its all helping without knowing we're doing so, so it's pretty ridiculous. Even more ridiculous if you even knew who I was talking about. It's just all dumb, yet strangely symmetrical in a good way.
I obviously can't make a decision on how I feel about the matter. Clearly.
And it’s horrible, all of this, big parts of my life are such a secret, and I’ve always been such an open person. I always talk about everything, no matter if it’s too TMI or anything of that sort. And stuff that upsets me, or stuff that makes me happy, I like to share. But I just can’t.
And I try without really saying anything. Just get it out there, but yet dance around it so much all it does is confuse everyone around me. I get so many questions on Twitter when I post things like that, and while none of them are ever really close to right, I feel bad because I can’t answer. I have to ignore, or say “I can’t talk about it,” which in turn makes me sound like some snob, and kick myself for even trying to express my feelings about what is going on in my life at that moment.
I share everything… not doing that is really
really hard for me. I didn’t know how hard it was going to be until now. It’s so everyday for me now, that I don’t even see why it should matter… but I know
exactly why it matters for the same reason. So I try to shut my mouth, dance around things but never talk about them.
All of you have no idea what I’m talking about, I realize this, but this is my journal, and I just need to do this for me. When I let things out I feel so much better, and it just… sucks that I can’t.
It sucked that I cried and couldn’t talk to anyone about it because of how I knew. It sucked that I got really happy after that and couln’t say anything about that either. It sucks when I have something I want to show off, but can’t. I’m so proud of myself for something I’m doing right now, and I really enjoy it, but I can never say anything. It's really all due to my large identity crisis of Sapphire Smoke vs. Mary. I used to regard us as two separate people, but we're just not. I am Sapphire Smoke. I write and talk about my real life as Sapphire Smoke. It's just a name, not a different persona, and that's what's become the problem. I don't know who I am anymore, and one is allowed to do stuff and the other isn't. I wish I did have MPD or something, would make this easier. No clashing.
I hate secrets.
My own secrets I can’t keep to save my life, but when they involve another person or more than one person I have to. It’s not just my secret to share.
It’s just hard. I’ve been beating myself up over a lot of shit recently.
I just laugh when I look in the mirror. I’m so fucking pretty that it’s just so pathetic sometimes about who I am underneath the physical.
I feel like shit right now. I want to cry again, but that’s probably just me PMSing again.
Labels: drugs, meth, secrets
credits.
