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Saturday, August 21, 2010

Of note:

The evil spirit of Goth guy past kept me up all night last night. I finally slept for a couple hours at 7 am. And then had work. Aaaand my mother is at last concerned enough to seek out professional help for my brain/heart/body trauma.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010


Man. Even my best friend is sick of hearing about it. Is a month and a half enough to get over a guy? I've heard it's different if you've had sex with them. I suppose it's even more of an unusual case if they raped you.

Ah well.

I finally got him back for defacebooking me before. But mine wasn't out of anger. I had to put him out of my mind. And you know how it is; off of facebook wall, out of mind. Mostly. I deleted all his old texts. Even the really nice ones. I know he's bad for me and I'm better off without him, but I wish he would miss me.

Ah well.

Time to move on. Time to get so unbearably famous that I someday have the option to hire him as a janitor. Actually he should have no part of it. The dream, I mean. He should have no part in the dreams of my future. But it's hard to not wish he'll see me in the future, see my great success. Be envious, or even just respect me.

I think that's it. What I wanted more than anything from him. Respect. I wanted him to look at me and see something formidable. A formidable lover. An equal love. A worthy rival.

But I'm worthless in his eyes.


His eyes do not measure my worth. They are incapable of such. I alone provide the worth, and myself and God may measure it. The rest can see it as they will.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

I hate you

How can he be so cavalier about my virginity? It's like he's already forgotten me. He took my virginity and it's all that ever mattered to him.

So now that it's gone, so is he.

He just moves on like nothing happened. It didn't even matter to him all that much. He could have at least been sorry.

You hear that, goth guy? You could at least be sorry for what you've done to me! When I had sex with you, it was a gesture of my affection for you. When you had sex with me, it was just your satisfaction at stake.

I'll never forget you. But you've already forgotten me.

You couldn't have done anything worse. And still I don't delete you from my facebook list in the hope that you'll.... what? I don't even know why. I'll just wait until you delete me and be hurt all over again.

I guess I should do something about that, but I'm afraid that if I do that, then you'll call or text, ask me 'what the hell?' I'm not prepared for that. I guess I'm afraid to act like you don't care, in case you actually do.

Even now that you don't care anymore, you're controlling me.

Monday, August 9, 2010

How many habits do I need before they're just quirks or part of my character?

I drank some chocolate vodka tonight because I won't be able to drink alcohol for a little bit, while I'm attempting another round of stuff to kill off the colony of yeastians living in my vagina.

Yup. Month six of the infection.

Also, I can't have anything with sugar in it while I'm on the stuff. Fortunately it only stays in my system for 3 days. UNfortunately I smoked TWO cigarettes not THREE days ago. So I can't fall back on that habit.

And apparently I've kicked my Goth guy habit? We'll see. I hope so. Mostly. Evil raping bastard. I just have to imagine him pursuing another woman like he pursued me to make me angry. And hurt. Damnit.

Anyway, I suppose I can either fall back on my art habit or my pokemon gameboy game habit while alcohol and sugar are on the outs.

And of course there's television. I've set my DVR to record family guy, the simpsons, old buffy the vampire slayer episodes, reba, ramsey's kitchen nightmares AND star trek: the next generation.

Aaaaaaand I procured the movies IT, Alien, something about a serpent and a rainbow or something (I think it's about voodoo), and Pandorum. Pandorum was okay. Not really all that scary. Definitely more of a sci fi than a horror. I suppose I also have the rest of the saw movies. *eyeroll* The first one was only good because of the last ninety seconds or so. I mean, SHIT dude! THAT, out of the whole movie, THAT scared the hell out of me.

Gore just isn't frightening. Monsters are frightening. Zombies are frightening. But only the zombies that can run. Fast zombies. That's what I'M talking about. Like Dawn of the Dead remake zombies. Terrifying. 28 days later zombies. Those were pretty good too. As for 28 WEEKS later? That can go to hell. It had all this potential and blew it with a cookie-cutter ending.

Man eating plants CAN be frightening. Like The Ruins? I'd have been more impressed if the plants had been as aggressive in that movie as they were in the book the movie was based on. SHIT dude. Those plants were creepy as hell in the book. The movie only lived up to the book by 75 percent. In the book, *SPOILERS IF YOU DON'T WANNA KNOW, DON'T FINISH THE PARAGRAPH!!!* everyone dies. None of that one person getting away to warn the world nonsense. Nope. The book is a bit more psychological (which can be hard to believe, after watching the movie).

However the attack of the Triffids was just silly. The only thing that could have topped that movie off would be if the plants had sung and danced.

Pokemon red is SO better than pokemon yellow. I'm gonna catch em all this week. That or knit a hat. Maybe both. And I could finish my rape painting. (yes, I am that psychologically disturbed by what happened. I need a freaking painting of how I felt. Whatevar. Eventually I'll get over it.)

I always start with bulbasaur because he has the best chance of defeating my nemesis in the first battle. But I'll get charmander and squirtle by restarting my blue game a couple times and trading for lame pokemon. Gotta catch em ah-all!!!


I miss him.

It's been two weeks since I last had any kind of contact with him. He's not putting up any kind of a fight. In this condition I'm sure so much as a facebook comment in my direction would have me crawling back.

It's good that he hasn't called.

I was kind of doing okay until it got to within a week of my menstrual. My hormones mess with my feelings like no man can. However, when they're on the man's side.... urgh.

I feel like my first sex meant nothing. And it did. And that's awful. I should never have let it happen. I have nightmares about it. About that night. When it wasn't really my decision. I so clearly remember him saying, "I'm gonna rape you."

I guess he wasn't really lying. I know, I let it happen, and I was dumb enough to get drunk with him. So of course I'm certainly not going after him for it. But it's always gonna be terrifying to remember. I'm always going to hurt when I remember the things he said and how rough he was with me. It hurt so much.

And it meant nothing.

I'm always going to remember most clearly that point where I thought he was finally asleep and it was safe to come back to bed. But when I got close he grabbed me, got on top of me. He wrapped his arms around me and started thrusting into me at a painful angle.

I begged him to stop, I tried to push him off of me, I cried. He told me to shut up. He called me a bitch. Nothing I did stopped him. I was either not strong enough or too drunk to push him off, though it felt like I was pushing with all my strength. So I just laid back and tried not to move. I looked away, up towards the corner of the room and pretended not to feel the pain. Pretended it was somebody else being hurt. I hoped that my not responding would make him stop. It didn't.

I just waited and waited, until he finally pulled out to readjust himself. Then I closed my legs as tight as I could. He pushed at my legs a little but he was drunk, so he just collapsed on the bed and let me be for a little while.

I relive this at least once a week in my nightmares.

I wish I could look at all this and hate him. I guess I feel like he owes it to me now, to be decent to me, to love me. But he owes me nothing. He just stole what was mine. And I didn't stop him.

I will never let myself be that drunk again.

I feel like I'll never love again.

I made love with him the next morning and a few days later because I just wanted to know that it could be something other than painful. And the way he looked at me when we were making love that morning was breath-taking.

"You're not a virgin anymore," he said, and he smiled at me. And it was sweet, and he held me like I was precious, and he touched me like I was unique and perfect.

It was all a lie.

His true self was the drunken monster that raped me the night before.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Dear God:

I'm dying down here. I'm aching inside. My heart is breaking.

There is nothing thus far in my life as hard as letting go of the man that didn't love me. At the same time as I try to set free the man that did. Goth guy doesn't care that I'm letting go, which breaks my heart. And Good guy is being malicious and cruel, jabbing what's left of my feelings with things I was honest to him about.

Please help me. Please save me from my feelings. You know how hard it is for me to try to let go. I loved Goth guy. And he took advantage of it. And I let him, because I was lonely and he was sweet, when he wanted something.

Even now I want to believe that it's not over. But at the same time I'm afraid of that. Afraid that he'll call, and I'll answer. I guess it's proof, if I'm not willing to kick him off my facebook. But I really prefer not to do that unless someone (like Good guy) says or does something awful to me.

While Goth guy has done much evil to me, he's done it nicely, so I still haven't really got any good dirt on him to get him kicked off the friend list.

Oh God forgive me. I'm a monster. And I'm so sad. And ashamed. Forgive me.

Of note:

Forgot to block Good guy on AIM.

"instaslut just add vodka"

Asshole. I told him I'd had sex because I wanted to be honest. And now he's using it to try to make me feel terrible. So I texted with an apology for my 'loveless relationship' comment and asked him to leave me alone, and that I'd been honest and now he was just using it to hurt me.

So if he continues, I've told him to stop already, and I can push charges for cyber harassment.

Monday, August 2, 2010

From Good guy to Asshole in a matter of moments

Well, if I had any thoughts of Good guy NOT being an asshole, I certainly don't anymore.

Yes, it was harsh. I suppose that's ALWAYS pretty harsh, telling somebody you don't think you should talk to them anymore. I told him that having some relationship with some chick who KNEW he didn't care about her and then still having the gall to tell me he loved me was unacceptable.

And then I was dumb enough to wait, because I wasn't sure if I should just block him right there, or wait for a response.

"Peace out. Have fun with your vodka and sex."


Wow. Asshole. Just... wow. I mean, I knew the guy had a temper. And he had a right to be unhappy. But that was a pretty nasty thing to say.

See, I'm a wuss. I am ALWAYS nice to the people I break it off with and the ones that break it off with me. Not much of a bridge burner. So I tell them that it was fun while I knew them and I hope they find what they're looking for.

But THIS TIME I defended myself! I was pretty proud of myself.

"Peace out. Have fun with your vodka and sex."

"And you, with your loveless relationship."

Woot me for finally having the balls to be a bitch. At least I defended myself. The only thing my not-so-good-with-the-whole-dealing-with-my-emotions-thing mother could say was, "YOU TOLD HIM YOU HAD SEX!?"

See, he didn't make me cry, but that sort of jerked a tear or two. And possible a temper tantrum. I angrily swatted a mostly-empty lettuce bag off the counter. (badass. I know.) The wall behind me was covered in lettuce leaves. I then promptly cleaned it all up.

Geez. Aren't moms supposed to KILL men that talk to their daughters that way?

Of note:

I don't know why, but I find great solace in shelving the spanish books at the library I work at.

Maybe it's because I'm learning that language and feel some sort of closeness to it because of that? Or maybe it's because my first love is a spanish speaker. Orrr maybe it's because I live in Arizona and half the locals speak it.

No matter. It still provides great peace.

Hubby bubby woo woo

I HATE the word "hubby". *shudder*

It's horrifying. First of all, the "ub" sound is just gross. Grub. Chub. Glub. Bub. It reminds me of giant chunks of congealed fat. Blubber. But women use it as a cutesy possessive noun for their husbands.

It's like the crazy dog lady saying "oh, my fifi is such a honey dew, isn't she? wib wibb wibbie wooooooo!"

You got that image, right? And that's sort of how I imagine you speak to or about your husbands, when you use the term hubby. "Oh my hubby wubby woo woo!"

Do you talk like that while you're having sex? Is that your parallel to dirty talk?

Woold my hubby wubby wike a bwo job?

Ladies. Please. Give them back their dignity. What woman first thought it was okay to strip her husband of his pride and make him look like a wuss in front of all the other men? Okay! They're powerless! They get it! But it doesn't help YOU to make him look like a pussy.

Woman that do that are called dominatrix. Dominate female situation.

Ironically, women that call their husbands "hubby" are most likely to want to be the bestest little house wives. Which clashes with your desire to cute-sify or NEUTER your men.

Pick one ladies, you can't be both.

Woold wuvy hubby wike his master to whip him raw?

Or would your manly man like you to make him a nice dinner and ask him about his day, and then have you submit to him like butter to a hot knife in bed?

Sleepless night

I don't know why I can't fall asleep. But I can conjecture.

Maybe it's because of Goth guy. I haven't spoken to him for nearly a week, and our last conversation was unpleasant. I haven't even texted. It's like he wanted me to get mad at him just so he could retreat to his pity corner. But I didn't rise to the bait so suddenly he just took offense at everything I said.

But the big issue with him at the moment is that I feel I'm nearly ready to actually move on. To beg God to take away my feelings for him. I have prayed for this. This is not something I was willing to ask for before.

Because I wasn't ready to let go.

I'm not really ready now. But I'm ready to actually try. I'm ready to leave him alone. I'm willing to ask God for my heart back.

But if he calls, and he's kind, I don't know what I'll do. I don't know if I'm ready to say, 'no. I won't be seeing you.' I might try to get him to settle for coffee or a movie. Pathetic, I know.

But the place I'm going isn't a fun one. It's either stay and pine over him (which I don't want), or it's get over him and be alone without someone to hope for.

Eventually there will be somebody else. But like all things it'll probably take it's time. And I don't look forward to that time of loneliness.

Maybe the reason I can't sleep tonight is because of Good guy. Who wasn't near as good as I thought.

He confessed to loving me. The next week he got into a relationship with some other girl. I asked about it. It's 'something to pass the time'. He admits his dislike for her. He tells me she knows that he doesn't see it going anywhere.

And then he still has the gaul to tell me he loves me.

Shame on him. That's despicable. So now I have to find a way to tell him I don't want to see him on thursday. Or ever. Is there an easy way to tell somebody this?

I'm sure he'll offer change. He'll offer to break it off. And I won't be interested. Because it was in his heart to do it, and he saw nothing wrong with living in it.

That would be like me finding nothing wrong in my involvement with Goth guy. No. There was plenty of wrong in that. And some of it I don't regret as I should, but I sure as hell can admit that it's wrong. I know that I have to apologize to my God, because I have sinned. I have hurt him.

But Good guy saw no problem in what he did.

Maybe smoking a cigarette would make me sleepy.

I went out drinking for the first time on saturday night. With my cousin. We had a good time. Two men hit on me. One was Puertorican football playing Eddie. Nice guy. Into the "goth look". I let it slide because I like the attention. Didn't go to his afterparty. But I did get invited.

I'll be smoking that cigarette now. Sweet dreams, cruel world.