Thursday, December 03, 2009
explination @ 4:17 PM
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
