I hate self-discovery...
I'm addicted to love. To sex, to passion, to relationships.
In high school I was a severe masochist. And I don't mean the "I hate my pathetic life, I'm going to cut my arms and see if someone will notice and give me the attention I justly deserve". My scars are well hidden, even in the skimpiest of clothes. And many were not done by a knife, but by months of heavy drug and alcohol abuse. All of this before I even turned sweet 16.
And of course, I met my "prince charming". We fell in love so fast, and it raised me from my depression. And just in perfect time, as only three months after we began dating I fell extremely ill and no doctor could diagnose my problem for months. In and out of the hospital for over a year, I would have been in total despair, if not dead, had it not been for my boyfriend. We became so close, he even came to live with me and my parents during our senior year of high school. But by then, our relationship had gone far passed the honeymoon phase, and we were only hurting ourselves by continuing the relationship.
I ended up moving to Madison on my own, instead of moving in with him and starting a life together. I was thrown into a new town, a new life, completely alone and still struggling with my health. I began dating ANYONE who would tell me I was pretty. After years of being invisible, I finally had someone telling me I was pretty. No longer in the shadow of my sister, the socialite with blond hair and an infectious laugh. I dated so many people that I never would even waste my time on, had I not been so addicted to the feeling of being important to someone. In one year I went from being in love and nearly married to being a self-proclaimed whore.
Now it has gotten so out of control that when I find myself interested in another person, I cannot even tell if my feelings are genuine, or if it is just my addiction telling me I am interested, all for the sake of that rush I get from being in a relationship or being a part of someone's life.
I can say, with very little hesitation, that I met someone in recent months who I felt genuinely interested in. And not only because the sex was amazing. I really liked him. Sure, I was worried beyond belief that I was just fooling myself into liking him. But now that I look back on it, I wasn't fooling myself at all, I honestly liked him... And sure enough, when I find something worth holding on to, something fucks it all up. The fact that I was an hour drive away was enough to make him decide I wasn't worth the effort. Which is for the best, I'm sure. I was just frustrated with myself for thinking I might have a chance at a healthy relationship before sorting all of this out. I know now that in order to be in a serious and healthy relationship with someone, I must first resolve these inner conflicts.
I thought my masochistic tendencies ended in high school. I thought I had grown up. Apparently I was very wrong. I'm more masochistic than ever. I get myself into these impossible situations. I "fall" for someone, and end up realizing it is only because I want to more sex, more relationships, more adrenaline rushes. I still wake up with self-inflicted wounds after a night of binge drinking and doing drugs.
And what bothers me the most is that I don't take my medications, I let months go by without getting my medical treatment, all in the hopes that one day my body will just break down again, and I can go back to the hospital and be cared for. That's right, I'm an attention whore. What I want more than anything right now is to be cared for. And no man I've ever been with has the fucking balls to deal with someone like me. And hell, I don't blame them. I'm fucked up in the head AND I have a chronic disease.
No one, including myself, wants any part in any of that bullshit.
It's a waste of energy.
Kind of like this rant.
in happier news.... got my hands on some new clothes. yes, new clothes. it's been months...
I'm addicted to love. To sex, to passion, to relationships.
In high school I was a severe masochist. And I don't mean the "I hate my pathetic life, I'm going to cut my arms and see if someone will notice and give me the attention I justly deserve". My scars are well hidden, even in the skimpiest of clothes. And many were not done by a knife, but by months of heavy drug and alcohol abuse. All of this before I even turned sweet 16.
And of course, I met my "prince charming". We fell in love so fast, and it raised me from my depression. And just in perfect time, as only three months after we began dating I fell extremely ill and no doctor could diagnose my problem for months. In and out of the hospital for over a year, I would have been in total despair, if not dead, had it not been for my boyfriend. We became so close, he even came to live with me and my parents during our senior year of high school. But by then, our relationship had gone far passed the honeymoon phase, and we were only hurting ourselves by continuing the relationship.
I ended up moving to Madison on my own, instead of moving in with him and starting a life together. I was thrown into a new town, a new life, completely alone and still struggling with my health. I began dating ANYONE who would tell me I was pretty. After years of being invisible, I finally had someone telling me I was pretty. No longer in the shadow of my sister, the socialite with blond hair and an infectious laugh. I dated so many people that I never would even waste my time on, had I not been so addicted to the feeling of being important to someone. In one year I went from being in love and nearly married to being a self-proclaimed whore.
Now it has gotten so out of control that when I find myself interested in another person, I cannot even tell if my feelings are genuine, or if it is just my addiction telling me I am interested, all for the sake of that rush I get from being in a relationship or being a part of someone's life.
I can say, with very little hesitation, that I met someone in recent months who I felt genuinely interested in. And not only because the sex was amazing. I really liked him. Sure, I was worried beyond belief that I was just fooling myself into liking him. But now that I look back on it, I wasn't fooling myself at all, I honestly liked him... And sure enough, when I find something worth holding on to, something fucks it all up. The fact that I was an hour drive away was enough to make him decide I wasn't worth the effort. Which is for the best, I'm sure. I was just frustrated with myself for thinking I might have a chance at a healthy relationship before sorting all of this out. I know now that in order to be in a serious and healthy relationship with someone, I must first resolve these inner conflicts.
I thought my masochistic tendencies ended in high school. I thought I had grown up. Apparently I was very wrong. I'm more masochistic than ever. I get myself into these impossible situations. I "fall" for someone, and end up realizing it is only because I want to more sex, more relationships, more adrenaline rushes. I still wake up with self-inflicted wounds after a night of binge drinking and doing drugs.
And what bothers me the most is that I don't take my medications, I let months go by without getting my medical treatment, all in the hopes that one day my body will just break down again, and I can go back to the hospital and be cared for. That's right, I'm an attention whore. What I want more than anything right now is to be cared for. And no man I've ever been with has the fucking balls to deal with someone like me. And hell, I don't blame them. I'm fucked up in the head AND I have a chronic disease.
No one, including myself, wants any part in any of that bullshit.
It's a waste of energy.
Kind of like this rant.
in happier news.... got my hands on some new clothes. yes, new clothes. it's been months...
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
puff:
do you have any wild animals? 
merlina:
WOW 
