sometimes i look at my life and wonder what the fuck is going on. and then i think, maybe, just maybe, i’m not ready to understand where this path is going. 

now, i’m not talking about god or religion leading down some path or that madonna is whispering in my hears that life is a mystery and that i must stand alone. what i mean is that i am not actually ready to understand why things are the way they are in my life.

it is like when you go to school for the first time and the teacher doesn’t tell you about negative numbers or fucking imaginary ones. and then one day, you go to class sometime down the line and they say, so when you take a smaller number from a larger number, it makes a negative. and mind. blown.

i knew about negative numbers but i never realized where they came from - it wasn’t a big deal. i just went with it, i wasn’t yet ready to understand. i wasn’t asking the right questions. 

sometimes i think that my life is in the midst of chaos theory. i dropped a piece of paper once and ever since then, shit has been going on. i just don’t know. 

i just don’t know.

Omg. I love Peter. And why did no one tell me that Gerard is like Umbridge - so fucking evil that just want him dead.

But Peter, I love him. Hands down favourite character. Awesome. I want one.

I’ve got Gran Tornio on and backing red velvet brownies.

Oh yeah. Hey Dude.

All I want to do is makeup, eat cake and read Teen Wolf sterek fanfiction. Is that too much to ask?

I am proud that I decided to be a tomboy in my adolescence and a woman in my adulthood. 

What better way to be a kid than to climb trees, get scrapes, cause war with my cousins and chase animals in the woods? It was good.

Being a girly woman in my adulthood? Awesome. I get to wear hot clothes, wear whatever makeup I want and people open doors for me. Best part? I didn’t waste my childhood playing makeup and get bored of it as I got older. 

Yeah, I’m pretty proud of it.

is everyone fat? I don’t understand this fucking trend, phase, fad or what have you on this issue. 

Like, everyone is fat. I grew up in a house where I was considered skinny until I was eleven and started period. I would eat a bit more than my mother would consider “normal” and there I was, a fucking blimp.

Nowadays, everyone is a blimp. A zephyr. An elongated hot air balloon. And it’s getting redunk.

I understand being healthy. That’s totally awesome. Be healthy! Be shiney!* Be happy with yourself. 

But for fuck’s sake, stop being “fat” - it’s fucking insulting. Seriously. I understand that no one likes to be left out, but shit. Can’t we all be like … good looking? Can’t that be the trend? 

Every time I surf tags, hang out on pinterest or leaf through a magazine, it’s always about how fat we are. How much cellulite we have. How much we should hate ourselves for shit that’s normal. 

Fuck that shit. Be healthy, not fucked up.

… I’m just tired of the same shit over and over again. I mean it. I have been called fat, a balloon and other fun things by my mom. Luckily, it didn’t affect me too badly - I just continued eating. It could’ve been worse since at those times I didn’t have a support system. If I had cared when I was younger about my body image, maybe if I started reading Seventeen or Teen Cosmo  back then instead of National Geographic, Popular Mechanics and read actual books, maybe I would be in that bad situation. 

Hell, I might be considered lucky that while my mom was busy emotionally screwing over her kids, she also taught us to that we can only do for ourselves. And that teaches people a lot. 

Anyway. Stop being fat. You aren’t.

*Shiney: don’t shine, show off your shins. WE WILL SHIN THE WORLD INTO SUBMISSION

when you finally run out of your favourite mascara and then find out it’s completely discontinued. 

Life isn’t worth living any more. Goodbye world. 

[in a totally melodramatic way of course, i have too much shit to do to kill myself. where would i find the time? i have birthday, engagement and other parties to plan and bake for - it doesn’t fit my schedule.]

I am totally bummed still.

There are times that I cannot comprehend that everything exists. It gets stuck in my head that we came fromthe universe. That we might be just a speck in its infinity. Just a blip in its life.

And I am amazed.

So, I wasn’t a late bloomer when I was preteen. In fact, I grew taller first, got boobs first and my period first out of all my friends. Then they all grew taller than me, apparently had “better” periods then me - didn’t get the better boobs though. I still hold that torch. 

No, they got boyfriends first. Which was cool, I was at that time a pretty “upsetting” person at that age. … Still am at this age, though I think the word now is “intense” - if only because I’ve been able to hone my skills for being me. 

Which in my world means that I am number one but I like to take care of people, as long as said people didn’t expect me to take care of them, the moment I feel like the person is taking me granted or they get upset because I didn’t randomly bring in some food and pampering, I stop. I don’t have to take care of anyone, I just like to take care of people. 

Anyway, back to middle school. So, the girls got boyfriends and I kinda had a phase where I was jealous of that but not really if that makes sense. I mean, here they were having all these experiences and I wasn’t. At this point in my life, I didn’t think I was very likable as a girl or a human being. Turns out that I am really fucking oblivious to people liking me - I don’t do subtle hints on my person. If someone likes me, I assume (wrongly) that they will come out and say: “Hey, dumbass, I like you. We should date or something.” 

… No one told me that there was a courting game. I’ve scared away many a suitor, because well, they were stupid; at least in my eyes they were stupid. Why the hell were people focusing on me? Didn’t they see I was busy?

See, when the girls in middle school and later, high school, were dating and getting STDs, I was learning other things. Not school related subjects, because I fucking hated school. No, I was learning about science and history and computer shit all on my own. I didn’t have time for boyfriends and the like. 

If it’s not easy to tell, I am a person focused on myself and my needs first. I can admit to it - I like to take care of people because it reflects on me as a good person. You can groan and be like: “OMG. What a selfish bitch”, but spare me the dramatics, people are never 100% selfless - there is an angle 99.9% of the time - most of us are just willing to ignore it. 

So, after high school I started working and then I escaped to Texas. I didn’t do much outside of work when I got here. I’m not very sociable, I like to stay in my bubble and it’s a bubble made for one.

Flash forward a bit and I go to college. School is where I reign supreme, even though I hate it. I excel at a lot of things, except for maths. Which is dumb ‘cos I can do computer programs and I’m pretty awesome at science, but whatever, numbers don’t make sense to me. I over think them.

I was the center of attention and it was good. Again, Captain Oblivious was here and unaware of being hit on and well, frankly when I found out, I didn’t give a damn. I was busy, being awesome and teaching myself new things. 

Then the end of school came and I was like, what? I need a new project. … And it happened. I got myself a person to take care of - someone that I could very well fall in love with and experience all sorts of things. Especially sex. I was 21 and very not experienced in the act. I knew/know how to make myself happy, but was willing to let someone else do that for me?

Let me explain a major detail that I left out: I fucking hate touching people. Now, let’s get this straight, I am not a germ-a-phobe. I am not afraid of getting diseases from touching people or even swapping spit. No. It’s much, much simpler than that. 

Skin feels gross. It literally gives me the skeevies. It’s like touching sand or terracotta or sandpaper or textured walls or those icky microfiber towels. No, I fucking hate the way people feel.

I had to get over it or this wasn’t going to work. I apparently found a not-so-patient man to deal with me. Remember when I said I was “intense” or “upsetting”? People don’t think that I know my flaws, I know them, I hone for just the right amount of annoyance. 

He was pretty disappointed that I was a virgin, which I stored away in my head as a weird descriptor, I love information. He never gave me a clear reason way, expect that it wasn’t really nice of me to ask why he was disappointed or why he didn’t find that exciting. It disappointed me that I wasn’t getting a good answer. 

Did you know that most people don’t like a lot of questions during sex? Most people who know me, know that I don’t stop talking, that I don’t stop being curious just because there is a penis located in my vagina. In fact, it makes me even more curious about everything that is going on.

So, while I didn’t find out all the answers to my questions, I did find out something totally major: 

ONE SHOULD NEVER DESCRIBE SEX AS “THE ACT OF TOUCHING PEE-HOLE TO PEE-HOLE” - FOR IT IS VERY UPSETTING.

I didn’t think it was upsetting, I just thought it was funny. But to add, things that I find upsetting is when people ask me when, or to whom, I’ve lost my virginity (or more aggravating: “v-card”, makes me think of veemon and I still have that Digimon card) - I want for the record to know: I didn’t lose my virginity. I gave it away. 

The only people who have lost their virginity are people that have it taken from them without their consent. Other than that, you fucking gave it away. You know where it’s at, it’s on someone else’s pee-hole. 

So, I discovered in my early 20s that while I think I am pretty fun to have sex with all the time, because trust me, once I get started I don’t really have a stopping point, I am annoying or maybe just to him. I could be annoying to everyone really - I’m a highly curious person who asks things like:

• “What does it feel like to impale someone on your cock?”
• “What kinds of feelings to you have when you enter into me?”
• “Doesn’t thinking about how we urinate out of these things gross you out?”
• “What goes through your mind when I tell you that I enjoy sucking your cock?”
• “Do you ever wonder what it feels like for the girl during sex?” 

Or, my personal favourite, which turned into a fight:

• “God, I wish I could impale someone just so I know what it feels like. Don’t you even want someone to stick a dick or something in you, so you know what I am feeling over here?”

That turned into a “I AM NOT FUCKING GAY” rage play, which totally defeated the point of the question. And should have been a huge warning side that a) he is probably a bigoted asshole, b) might actually be gay and in denial or c) totally wasn’t going to tolerate my acceptance of gay people and my curiosity to have sex with a woman. 

… As we can tell the relationship didn’t turn out well, but I did learn that it might be frowned upon to ask someone’s emotional disposition during sex. Even though it is a pretty personal time. 

For the record, I got to try out a lot of things with him - things I didn’t get to do and I was pretty upset about: never got to the point where I wanted to cry during sex. It was so important to me. It be that high that I had to cry. 

Also, he was an old man. Drained after three rounds or he would get pissed when I would refuse him exit from my warm summit. He had some issues with me being in charge of that - once we got started, the party didn’t stop until I said so. 

I haven’t been able to find anyone since then, but that’s okay. I’m pretty secure in myself and I don’t mind being by myself. Sure, I miss having a partner to be with but at the same, it’s so draining. I was not built for this kind of emotional warfare. 

I was also really stupid and thought I was in love. Thinking back, I wasn’t in love. I was in lust. I was also horny and bored. So fucking bored. Like really bored but I still had some sort of emotional connection with him, it pissed me off when he left me cos the motherfucker was a baby and didn’t fucking tell me. 

That’s how I knew it wasn’t love - people don’t just leave. Oh well, you live, you learn and you tell people that sex is “pee-hole touching pee-hole.”

Any thoughts?

I think that I might be ready for so much more but I just don’t know that I am ready for so much more. And I tell all these people and they agree. And then I tell the one person who can help me move along and they disagree and the whole world of mine falls apart. 

I don’t really know what I am writing. All I know is that I am ready for a change, not a big change but the really subtle ones. Like, instead of getting up and moving to whole new world, I merely just walk a little more to the left.

You don’t think that it won’t do much, but you are still in a new place. Slightly to the left. 

… this has been a jumbled message. I need a vacation.

I’m gonna write a book. Because, well,

why the hell not?

I need a life change. And I think, I think this is the perfect thing to do and the perfect time to do it.