I don’t want to talk about this anymore, because I don’t want to stop.

But, I don’t want you to know how bad it is and I don’t want you to report me.

I want to be honest, but I’m afraid of where that honesty will get me, so I’m done talking.

Leaving Well Enough Alone

It’s something I can’t do. It’s something that just don’t think I’ve ever been able to do it.

You know as a child when they tell you not to pick your scabs. I’m the kid who literally  CANNOT help it. The literal definition of a scan is to help you heal:

So, by me picking at it and ultimately peeling it off, I’m essentially slowing down the healing process. This is my life. This has always been my life. And this is what I feel like I am doing right now.

For the past two weeks, I have been happy. Other than the craziness of traveling back and forth between this project and home because of a wedding and almost getting sick as a result of it.. But that’s neither here nor there. 

The point is. For the last two weekends I’ve been in working in New Jersey, but hanging out in New York City on the weekends. I’ve been enjoying life, spending time with my family and friends, eating all the food and drinking when I can. But slowly and surely, I’ve been picking at the scab that has been forming from my last breakdown last month.

However, when I’m triggered or when something comes up, there are times when I am able to just suppress it (ie. not pick the scab). But then there are times when I can’t/don’t want to suppress it and I need to feel all the emotions as much as possible (ie. pick the scab until it bleeds.) As a result, I start to spiral and parts of me hates it, but then other parts of me are oddly satisfied. 

Is it just me? Or does everyone go through something similar? 


I think I’m a masochist. In fact, I know I am. Okay, I’m 87% sure. It’s not even that I enjoyed inflicting pain in myself all the time, sometimes I do enjoy it, but most of the time I find it necessary to punish myself.

Why, you ask? I have no idea.

I’ve always been like this. Ever since I can remember, I had the weird fascination with things going wrong, mainly because I wanted to see I would react to the situation. I know I know, you’re not supposed to wish harm on anyone, but if it’s on yourself doesn’t that make it a little better?

Trust me, I know the answer to that is, no. 

Back to the topic at hand, my fascination with pain and sorrow and causing harm to myself, because I like being miserable.

It’s one of the main reasons why I used to cut myself. It started off as anger, then it morphed into a form of punishment. It could be from anything as well, not doing well in school, not doing well in track, not doing well with friends, anything really.

In college, it morphed more into me just being overwhelmed and upset. Mainly, with school and relationships (friendships). Especially junior and senior year, I just couldn’t handle the pressure of being perfect all the time. I know, who do I think I am? I know I’m not perfect and I know that no one expected me to be perfect, or at least they didn’t outwardly say it.

My friends saw me as this strong, outgoing, charismatic, person. And yes, I could be that at times, but also at times I was the complete opposite. I got sad sometimes too. In fact, I got sad a lot of times, for no reason at all. I still do, but I have to keep up with the appearance of nothing ever being wrong.

Even though, I know that’s not at all possible. For anyone.

I hated that I always had to be the strong one. I hated that I had to be there for everyone, but no one was there for me. And I hated that I felt that way. I shouldn’t have felt that way. I had great friends. I have great friends and a great  support system. But, I hated that I wasn’t able to ask for help for fear of being a burden. Thus, I hated that you (ex best friend) made me that way. Because it is your fault, I kept to myself for the long and then when I did let someone in you ruined it. You made me feel as I was the worst person in the world for coming to you with my problems. You made me feel like my problems didn’t matter. You made me feel awful. And for that I hate you. I hate how you made me feel. I hate how you continue to make me feel. And I hate that our friendship is ruined and we can’t even talk anymore.

I hate that I can’t let people in.

I hate that I have so many thoughts,

and I have to keep them all to myself.

I hate that I have so many thoughts.

Not all of them are good. In fact, a lot of them are bad. I don’t act on all of them, if I did I probably wouldn’t be here right now. You can figure out what that means.

I just hate that I have so many and I try my best to make them subside but, the more I try the more they come back. I find myself being able to drive forty minutes without music, and not even realizing it because the thoughts are so loud. I find myself reliving moments in times.

I find myself reliving that night over again.

I continue asking myself if I did anything wrong. Did I lead him on? Could I have said no sooner? Could I have pushed him off harder? Why did I feel so weak? Why did I feel like my voice didn’t matter? Why couldn’t I stand up for myself?

I know better, I should have know better.

But then again…

Why didn’t he stop when I asked him to? Why did he keep telling me to relax? Why did he take advantage of me? Why didn’t he listen when I said,

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m not ready. I can’t. Stop.”

I know it’s not my fault. I know I shouldn’t be blaming myself, but I can’t help it.  Parts of me thinks that I should have been stronger and more assertive. But, society and rules and common decency says that when a person say no or stop the other person should listen to that request.

And you sir, you did not listen to that request. You didn’t listen to my wishes. You didn’t care about me at all, because if you did then we wouldn’t have had sex, you wouldn’t have assaulted me. I wouldn’t have been raped. Oh and I would still be a virgin.

But, hindsight is 20/20.



I want to be I control at least once. I want to be the one calling the shots. I don’t want to be taken advantage of anymore. Although, I do like that aspect as well. So maybe I am in control of at least that. I like the fight. Okay. Let me stop, because I don’t know how comfortable I am sharing those inner most thoughts.

Back to the topic at hand. I have thought of so many ways to walk into his room and push him down on the bed (just like he did me) and get on top of him and take charge. But, every time I get the opportunity to do so, I lose my nerve.

Last night, I wanted to knock on his door, but by the time I finished working out and washing my hair it was 9 o’clock. Which actually isn’t that late, but you know me any excuse is a good excuse.

We only have a few more days together, so that doesn’t leave much time. I don’t want to have sex. For a few reasons. I don’t know him well enough. I’m not on birth control. I’m saving myself for marriage or at least for someone I love. Besides, like I said before he claims he doesn’t mess with virgins. So there’s that.

I don’t know what I want to do and that’s my main issue. That’s why I’ve been so hesitant. I simply do not know what I want.


I Need To Stop Doing This To Myself

Damn Daniel,

Back at it again. Similar atmosphere, different guy, rougher conditions..

I guess I should stop going back to guy’s rooms, huh?

He didn’t go too far, well actually he didn’t do anything. He just kept pinning me down: on the chair, on the bed, against the wall. He also kept grabbing my face and was trying to kiss me.

He did, however, the very last time he had me pinned in my room, try and force my hand down to his you know what.

Basically, all night he wouldn’t let me leave, and then said, “Oh I’m just messing with you. I love messing with you. I wish you could see your face. If you didn’t want to kiss me you could have just said no.”

Let the record show, I said no & I said stop, several times.

Half of me was turned on by what was happening and the other half was worried that he would take it a step too far and actually not let me go.

Does that make me a bad person? 

Either way though, I was extremely nervous about the situation and he could tell that and that’s partly why he continued to mess with me, which I didn’t like. Because I thought he was being serious and I was genuinely scared.

I don’t know what’s going on with me. Granted, I’ve never had guys want me before so this is all a new experience for me and I guess I’m just trying to figure out how to handle myself.

Of the three guys in the past week who have tried something with me, I reciprocated one. Because, I like him.

But, like I said. I’ve been hit on more times in the past week than I have in my entire life. So you know when you get too much attention too fast it all goes to your head? Yeah, that hasn’t happened yet. I’m still just trying to figure out what my appeal is as well as trying to build my confidence. I’m all talk and little action and guys just need to respect that for now.

I’m also not trying to sleep with someone I just met. That’s not, nor will that ever be me.


I’m Leaving

I don’t think I have ever been so determined to change my current situation.

Theo, the 13 year old I take care of, made me so angry to the point where I literally didn’t know what to do. The situation wasn’t even worth the argument that it caused, but it just ruined both of our days because we are so stubborn. I just walked out. This is the second time that I have done that and it’s just because I don’t know what else to do.

He keeps saying he’s sorry, but it doesn’t help when you continue to do the same thing over and over again. Don’t be sorry, be better. How do you change a person if it’s all they know. How do you stop a behavior that someone has grown up with. How do you help to raise someone else’s kid without stepping on the toes of the parents. Theo could never be my son because I wouldn’t have let it get this far. He rarely gets told no, so it makes it so much harder when I do it. Working with him has just shown me that it’s Theo’s world we all just live in it. It’s either his way or the highway. And I can’t live like that. No anymore.

There’s a lack of respect that he has for me and I don’t know how to get it back. Long talks aren’t working, yelling isn’t working, reasoning doesn’t work, and being nice doesn’t either. I just want him to succeed and be the best person he can be, but he is making it so hard for me to stay.

What’s even worse is that he is setting a bad example for his little bother. The same one who has now gotten into the even worse habit of copying everything his brother does. Theo sings a song, so does Bud. Theo wants a snack, so does Bud. Theo doesn’t want to do his homework, neither does Bud. So you can see how problematic life has become if the sole purpose of me being there is to help these children get better at school.

They are making it so hard for me to see myself doing this for the rest of my life. I thought I was great with working with kids. They are beginning to make me doubt that.

I love kids, I love working with kids, and I enjoying making kids happy, and watching them succeed. But it’s day like these when I ask myself, “Are you sure you can do this?” and not only that but I tend to tell myself, “You can be doing so much more with your life and earning so much more as well.”