just take a second.
god, i feel sort of sick right now.
joshua called and wants to stop by after his AA meeting, and i was like, fine, we can watch logan's run before mike has to return it to the store.
so then i started painting, and i can't get this lake done, as usual ... i've painted this lake like 5 times already ... it just never looks the way i want it to ..
well then suddenly my stomach is up in knots because last week j was all up in my shit about this supposed crush i have on y, which i don't really, well maybe like a people crush, and i was like .. no .. someone else, and he was like, who who? joshua? and i said, no no .. but he knew and since then he's been up on my shit, soooo, what's up with joshua ??? and i'm like, j, please ...
so now he's out most likely getting wasted with m, going shopping and like ..
i've decided that i'm completely anti-social.
i can't talk to people anymore.
i want nothing but to hide ...
and like
joshua's going to come over..
and i need to explain ..
that i felt really pressured the other night at his house..
and like...
i don't care if he was sleeping ..
i hate when i wake up to someone trying to go down my pants,
which seems to happen with EVERY FUCKING ONE I KNOW.
anyways.
it's just a big issue with me ...
and even bigger the issue that i had explained that i didn't want to sleep with him,
but like ...
he kept trying to pressure me ...
and then i said i just wanted to talk and he just wanted to sleep.
oooh, ok, so it's ok for you to fuck me or do whatever, makeout, whatnot,
but as soon as i want to use words, no.
no no no.
and then to ask if i'm in pain from sexual frustration,
well of course i am asshole, but that doesn't mean anything.
my body doesn't mean anything when the words i choose to use are ignored.
so fuck you.
but of course,
it's not you, is it?
it's me.
as always.
and the fact that i HATE sex. i hate all that comes with it. i hate the way i have to feel like a two way street. i hate the way i have to feel like i'm not good enough if i don't pleasure you.
i want nothing of this.
i really don't.
and it is me.
because i don't say my words strongly enough, i guess.
and the fact that i do get carried away.
and i understand that wanting to sleep with me is a major fucking hassle, because it's fucking painful for you, well fuck you, if i don't want to move at your speed.
fuck you if i'm a prude.
fuck you if the thought of penises and fucking ...fucking ... and cum and all that shit makes me want to fucking vomit all over my fucking self and then fucking cry and cry and cry because none of it matters, because i can't stay in my body during it anyway for whatever fucking reason, and fuck you if you think that you are going to be the one to make me enjoy it again, because you won't, because no one every will you fucking assholes, so just stay the mother fuck away from me.
and i'm fucking serious.
fuck.
it's just so hard.
i can't explain these feelings i feel.
i can't describe how acts of supposed love feel like fucking violations.
i can't explain how scared i am all the time.
of my body, of how i am.
of what you are ..
and that you might turn into a different person suddenly..
and push down
and hold my wrists down and yank at my hair
so i'll bite my lip and be sort of glad that i have all these drinks in me to hide what's going on
and your fucking chandelier cock,
and those christmas lights were so bright,
and i said, rich, rich...
just get the fuck off of me.
it's my fault.
because i didn't state what i want.
and now i'm on the verge of tears
because i so want to trust.
i so want to trust.
but i don't.
and my heart is shaking as we speak
and i just want to sleep
without being fucking disturbed.
for once.
and then there's the fact that i almost called you j like three times.
you know what.
i don't want to want to end it all.
and i'm really scared.
because i have these dreams at night where i have all these pills and dollar bills and i don't have a pill crusher so i'm using all these other methods, but i can't seem to get the shit ground into a fine enough powder and i wake up really frustrated...
and then i'm like, what the fuck is wrong with you that you dream of fucking drugs?
you're such a fucking loser.
a real fucking loser, larisa.
a real fucking loser.
my heart hurts.
i'm having an anxiety attack.
i want.
to.
be.
ok.
and i will be,
i guess.
when spring comes,
or when my 20's are over, like my therapist says,
because everyone seems to blame all this mess on being in my 20's when i've felt this way long before my fucking 20's and i really don't see what being in your 30's or 40's has to do with fucking anything.
dear joshua,
i can't do this. you're a good friend, really.
but once you start this shit you lose my trust.
all of it.
and i thought that you knew that.
dear world,
i've never been so fucking lonely.
larisa
joshua called and wants to stop by after his AA meeting, and i was like, fine, we can watch logan's run before mike has to return it to the store.
so then i started painting, and i can't get this lake done, as usual ... i've painted this lake like 5 times already ... it just never looks the way i want it to ..
well then suddenly my stomach is up in knots because last week j was all up in my shit about this supposed crush i have on y, which i don't really, well maybe like a people crush, and i was like .. no .. someone else, and he was like, who who? joshua? and i said, no no .. but he knew and since then he's been up on my shit, soooo, what's up with joshua ??? and i'm like, j, please ...
so now he's out most likely getting wasted with m, going shopping and like ..
i've decided that i'm completely anti-social.
i can't talk to people anymore.
i want nothing but to hide ...
and like
joshua's going to come over..
and i need to explain ..
that i felt really pressured the other night at his house..
and like...
i don't care if he was sleeping ..
i hate when i wake up to someone trying to go down my pants,
which seems to happen with EVERY FUCKING ONE I KNOW.
anyways.
it's just a big issue with me ...
and even bigger the issue that i had explained that i didn't want to sleep with him,
but like ...
he kept trying to pressure me ...
and then i said i just wanted to talk and he just wanted to sleep.
oooh, ok, so it's ok for you to fuck me or do whatever, makeout, whatnot,
but as soon as i want to use words, no.
no no no.
and then to ask if i'm in pain from sexual frustration,
well of course i am asshole, but that doesn't mean anything.
my body doesn't mean anything when the words i choose to use are ignored.
so fuck you.
but of course,
it's not you, is it?
it's me.
as always.
and the fact that i HATE sex. i hate all that comes with it. i hate the way i have to feel like a two way street. i hate the way i have to feel like i'm not good enough if i don't pleasure you.
i want nothing of this.
i really don't.
and it is me.
because i don't say my words strongly enough, i guess.
and the fact that i do get carried away.
and i understand that wanting to sleep with me is a major fucking hassle, because it's fucking painful for you, well fuck you, if i don't want to move at your speed.
fuck you if i'm a prude.
fuck you if the thought of penises and fucking ...fucking ... and cum and all that shit makes me want to fucking vomit all over my fucking self and then fucking cry and cry and cry because none of it matters, because i can't stay in my body during it anyway for whatever fucking reason, and fuck you if you think that you are going to be the one to make me enjoy it again, because you won't, because no one every will you fucking assholes, so just stay the mother fuck away from me.
and i'm fucking serious.
fuck.
it's just so hard.
i can't explain these feelings i feel.
i can't describe how acts of supposed love feel like fucking violations.
i can't explain how scared i am all the time.
of my body, of how i am.
of what you are ..
and that you might turn into a different person suddenly..
and push down
and hold my wrists down and yank at my hair
so i'll bite my lip and be sort of glad that i have all these drinks in me to hide what's going on
and your fucking chandelier cock,
and those christmas lights were so bright,
and i said, rich, rich...
just get the fuck off of me.
it's my fault.
because i didn't state what i want.
and now i'm on the verge of tears
because i so want to trust.
i so want to trust.
but i don't.
and my heart is shaking as we speak
and i just want to sleep
without being fucking disturbed.
for once.
and then there's the fact that i almost called you j like three times.
you know what.
i don't want to want to end it all.
and i'm really scared.
because i have these dreams at night where i have all these pills and dollar bills and i don't have a pill crusher so i'm using all these other methods, but i can't seem to get the shit ground into a fine enough powder and i wake up really frustrated...
and then i'm like, what the fuck is wrong with you that you dream of fucking drugs?
you're such a fucking loser.
a real fucking loser, larisa.
a real fucking loser.
my heart hurts.
i'm having an anxiety attack.
i want.
to.
be.
ok.
and i will be,
i guess.
when spring comes,
or when my 20's are over, like my therapist says,
because everyone seems to blame all this mess on being in my 20's when i've felt this way long before my fucking 20's and i really don't see what being in your 30's or 40's has to do with fucking anything.
dear joshua,
i can't do this. you're a good friend, really.
but once you start this shit you lose my trust.
all of it.
and i thought that you knew that.
dear world,
i've never been so fucking lonely.
larisa
posted by L | 5:45 PM
1 Comments:
You have a heavy heart. I know that feeling well, even though I have no idea what it is like to be you.
It WAS NOT your fault. Easy for me to say, I know. But it wasn't.
I hope your interview went well. I think of you often.
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