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.


Well there goes that… 

I’m no longer a virgin.

Well, technically not?

…Fuck, I don’t know.
The following information is:


but it’s based on real life events. My life. It’s difficult to explain and pretty vulgar.

I guess I attempted, well he attempted, okay I guess it’s not an attempt because it actually happened. We had anal sex. I didn’t want to & it didn’t last long because it hurt too much. He tried twice. But, I still couldn’t take it, so eventually he stopped.

Prior to that however he tried to have vaginal sex with me, but I definitely didn’t want that. But, he was relentless and just kept saying it’s just the tip, it’s just the tip. Although, it definitely felt like more than that. It all happened so fast and he was almost fully inside, without a condom, and without me being on birth control. It was the tip and then some and that’s why I was so scared. I can’t get pregnant, because I don’t believe in abortions. I can’t get pregnant because I’m not married. And I can’t get pregnant because I don’t know him. And this day in age I am too smart to know how not to get pregnant. So if I did, I’m just stupid.

I made him put a condom on though before I turned over for him to go in the back way. Which probably made it worse because then there was less lubrication. I didn’t want it to happen, but he was already inside before I could say no. I did say no, and I did make it stop.

The hardest part for me is that I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I want. I know I don’t want to get pregnant which is why I didn’t have sex with him. Honestly, that was probably the MAIN reason I didn’t have sex with him. That oh and the fact that, I don’t know him, nor love him, nor is he my husband, nor did I want to. So I fought harder to make sure that didn’t happen.

I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. I wanted to twice, but I couldn’t. Because there was nothing to cry about. I wasn’t sad, I wasn’t mad. I’m just confused. And now I’m hurt and bleeding.

My period isn’t supposed to start until next week. I woke up this morning bleeding. No other period systems, like chronic cramps, and fatigue. None of that. Just bleeding. At first, I thought it was spotting. And now it’s pretty consistent. I don’t know what to do. I guess it’s probably just my period. Which is good because that means I’m not pregnant. So I think I might just have to wait it out.

I’m sorry this is so detailed. But, I don’t have anyone else that I can talk to. When I get back home, (currently across the country) I’ll set up an appointment to meet a new psychologist for the third time in the life and go from there.

Date of delflowerment: April 26th, 2017


I’m Okay, But Not Really. I Will Be. 

This past weekend was my first sexual experience. Yes, you heard me right. My first. What does that mean exactly? It means that no, I didn’t have sex, yes he asked me if I was sure, and of course my response was yes. Hard to follow? He was a gentleman.

Needless to say, I was exposed to other things, but my inability to commit and follow through made it hard. (bad choice of words)

Anyway, that’s besides the point. I’m writing this post after two days of processing and contemplating if what I did was wrong, right, whatever. Also, with the help of a very good friend, I didn’t fall back into old habits which was good. Although, it was tempting to punish myself in more ways than just mentally. I even thought of just saying you know what fuck it, I’ll fuck him. Which would have probably been the worst form of self harm I could do.

If you’re wondering why it’s so bad to just have sex, I’ll tell you why. I plan on saving myself until marriage or at the very least until I have a stable and boyfriend that I see myself marrying. My first time is not going to be with someone I meet less than 48 hours earlier.

Now where was I?  Ah, yes. Guilt, shame, regret. All things I felt after than night and all the next day. Guilty: I felt as if I led him on. Here’s the text I sent, you be the judge:

“Huge shot in the dark here: & if you want to go out and do something else I understand, no worries. But, would you like to have a chill night drink and watch a movie with me? I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

Keep in mind this took me one hour to craft and I had to close my eyes to send it. I expected him not to respond, but of course we all know he did. Okay, okay, I get it now. I essentially asked him to Netflix and Chill, but I sent it as an innocent request. He took it as the non-innocent one. Obviously. So, when things started happening, I had to let him know that I wasn’t interested in having sex. Why you ask? I’m a Virgin.

Shame: I felt absolutely terrible that I led him on. I knew that I didn’t want to have sex, but I knew that he would interpret it as such and I went ahead it with anyway. I was also ashamed that I was so inexperienced and a lot of things were fumbled. I also felt the shame of my own body, which is mostly why nothing happened. I’m not comfortable enough with my body to fully expose it to someone else. I can’t even imagine why he likes me and that 1. Pisses me off. 2. Makes me extremely sad. I mean don’t get me wrong. My face is gorgeous, but my body isn’t a ten. So why did he want to touch and be inside of it? I know, those are definitely things that I need to work out internally, and accepting your body probably also comes with the territory of being more experienced. So there’s hope right?

Regret: Honestly, my biggest regret, and feminist of the world do not attack me, was the fact that I did not satisfy him. I tried, but I just wasn’t emotionally ready. I felt bad that I wasted his time, gave him blue balls, ruined his night. Only one of this things I know for sure, here’s a hint it’s the one that contains a color. Even though he said it was okay. Well, he “it is what is”. Whatever the hell that means. Another thing I regret is that I didn’t leave early. When he finally knew that he wasn’t going to be getting any, I should have left then. But, I didn’t. And it’s what happened after that I wish I didn’t happen.

Moral of the story: Don’t put yourself in situations where you are not ready, mentally or physically.

I have worked through my demons on this one, so I think I’m done writing for me.

Oh, but to make matters worse, I like him.