Before I Delete This

I was in a relationship with a guy I could've married when I started this blog. Sure, it wasn't perfect. He did stuff with my bestie's bestie twelve feet away from where I laid naked in his bed when we first got together. Pretty sure he washed his dick off in the sink. My bestie didn't tell me til I expressed interest in breaking up with him. Her bestie may have fudged the truth. I "shhh just let it happen" knowing I didn't want to live with my parents at the time because I was twenty three. At any rate, I no longer possess a bestie. Or a boyfriend. Especially a live-in one. Unless you count my cat. Which is very sad. What are complete sentences?

That was a struggle for me when I started this blog. Forming complete sentences is difficult when you've been intentionally brain damaged. Fuck why?

I've regained my ability to think verbally once again without crying in frustration because my head might as well have been "the big empty" at that point. This blog, while the pandering to Jim got out of hand and admittedly took over for waaayyyy too long (I've come to accept that he's basically the Helen of Troy of millenial men), has helped with that greatly.

It would be wonderful if he ever read this because I wanted him to understand why I always said things like "I'm depressed" and know that I'm basically okay now. I've figured things out, gotten to the real root of my emotional trauma that made me into a sexually awkward / reluctant / seemingly normal with someone else / then suddenly promiscuous teenager and behaviorally damaged young adult.

I've promised myself not to dwell on it anymore. Here's one more meager attempt at a simple explanation: I saw a bunch of abuse and shitty places the first half of my life. My immediate family moved from gritty old southside hood scenery to pretty new cookie cutter houses with the greenest grass and the sunshinest shopping strips when I was thirteen. In hindsight, Cypress has its ugly reminiscences of the dark times in my life now too, but mostly because I made it that way for myself.

I was going to succeed and I ended up being a huge disappointment to myself and everyone, got angry feeling many of my actions were well justified even though I regret most of them now and wish I could've just kept my mixed fear and anger bottled up as fuel for something beyond all the bullshit instead of playing detective (and mental patient) for a decade....then I attempted to cover my ass by trying to be some kind of famous.

I always wanted to be liked for my smarts and personality and I hoped I'd be hot someday. Turns out, no matter who you are, two outta three ain't bad on that front. It's still a trick finding a person who agrees with you (or disagrees where appropriate).

Why does anyone put themselves out there? I chose to let myself go psycho about the guy I might've traded v-cards with back in the day, but this is so much more than that and at this point I would welcome any kind of assurance that he isn't planning on having me imprisoned so I can stop worrying about which OITNB character resembles me the most. I was not going to watch that because I felt pressured into considering/trying lesbianism growing up. I liked Weeds though.

Please. Please stop trying to set people up. Please don't call people out on their presuméd sexuality according to you. Just because a girl only hangs out with girls doesn't mean she's secretly a lesbian. It might mean she's waiting for a special guy. It might mean she wants to grow up without being distracted by sex stuff she already knows too much about. She might crave technical knowledge of something that could lead her to a fulfilling career she can support herself with so she has nobody to fucking blame when she's finally ready to pursue marital bliss and still can't find it. She might have a real shot at feeling worthy though. Or he. Damn it...

I just want my turmoil to mean something besides I'm stupid and did it wrong. Please tell me this isn't just a pithy waste of life in the comments below. I'm not a Buddhist monk.