I've met a lot of freaks in my time. Hell I'm probably one of the biggest freaks around.
But I'm not talking of the shy, kooky kind of freak. I'm talking about the random, perverted, scary freaks. The ones that no one will miss. Well maybe a small minority would.
Lately it seems I am a magnet for the scary freaks. Okay, maybe not lately. There's a strong possibility it's more like all the time. Let's not start getting too picky now.
There was the guy who said he loved me. That's nice until I tell you I've never met him. I also only spoke to him for a few days before he professed his love. Yeah right, he loves me and doesn't even know me. Insert eye rolling movements here.
Another freak was a girl I met in the public hospital. Yes, alarm bells should have started ringing then. In my defence, I wasn't entirely sane at that point. Thus the reason I was in hospital.
Anyway, she seemed nice. She said she liked me, you know in the romantic way. I was flattered! It wasn't long before I started feeling scared around her. I couldn't even tell you what it was, but something just wasn't right.
I had to make a decision. I broke up with her. She called me a fat, unemployed loser. Among other things. I was crushed.
Another freak I went to high school with. He said he'd always loved me. He told that same line to all my friends. On Facebook. In private emails.
There have been so many people in my life who thought they would share themselves with me. I'm all for sharing, after all it is a sign of caring. I'm not so keen on people sharing their nasty fetishes with me. Or their desire to fuck the fat chick because she's easy. (Yes, I'm the "fat chick".)
What I'm getting at is that I know I'm a freak, I'm strange and I keep people at arms length. But I'm not perverted. Hell, if anything I'm a prude. Yep, that's right, prude. Prude, prude, prude.
Hey, you try finding someone you want close to you when everyone only wants sex or something freaky from you.
Whatever the reasons I've been scarred for life by all these manipulative, cruel individuals. I'll be hurt and scarred by more to come. It's just the way my life is.
Simmering anger
Why do I always feel like a possession?
I started talking to a new twitter friend recently. He told me he knows what it's like to have anxiety and depression. I feel for the guy and say hello. I'm always interested in people's stories. Anyone who knows me, or thinks they do, knows that I love how different and diverse our backgrounds are.
This guy from twitter says he doesn't spend much time on there but would really like to talk more with me. He asked for my email address. Eh, email is fine in my books, so I give it to him.
Apparently I'm an easy mark. I didn't and don't ever talk with people to have anything more than friendship between us. I'm so very tired of the same kind of bullshit conversations. The same pattern. Almost the same words.
"hey, you're hot"
"what do you do?"
"what's the wildest thing you've done?"
"are you horny?"
It's always the same. Each time it angers me a little more. I'm not a toy. I'm not something you can use for a "good time".
No wonder I keep telling the world to fuck off.
One day I'd like a non-sleazy, non-creepy and non-predictable person to strike up a conversation with me. Yes, I realise it's not likely. One day I'd like to meet someone who's not just after sex.
Oh, here's a tip. I'm not wild. I don't get horny when you ask me, I'm not turned on by sleaze and I definitely don't care if you think you're "wild" in bed.
You want me to like you, interest me.
Engage me mentally not physically.
Actually, don't bother at all. I won't stay around when you start getting sleazy.
I started talking to a new twitter friend recently. He told me he knows what it's like to have anxiety and depression. I feel for the guy and say hello. I'm always interested in people's stories. Anyone who knows me, or thinks they do, knows that I love how different and diverse our backgrounds are.
This guy from twitter says he doesn't spend much time on there but would really like to talk more with me. He asked for my email address. Eh, email is fine in my books, so I give it to him.
Apparently I'm an easy mark. I didn't and don't ever talk with people to have anything more than friendship between us. I'm so very tired of the same kind of bullshit conversations. The same pattern. Almost the same words.
"hey, you're hot"
"what do you do?"
"what's the wildest thing you've done?"
"are you horny?"
It's always the same. Each time it angers me a little more. I'm not a toy. I'm not something you can use for a "good time".
No wonder I keep telling the world to fuck off.
One day I'd like a non-sleazy, non-creepy and non-predictable person to strike up a conversation with me. Yes, I realise it's not likely. One day I'd like to meet someone who's not just after sex.
Oh, here's a tip. I'm not wild. I don't get horny when you ask me, I'm not turned on by sleaze and I definitely don't care if you think you're "wild" in bed.
You want me to like you, interest me.
Engage me mentally not physically.
Actually, don't bother at all. I won't stay around when you start getting sleazy.
Cuts
There are times when I can't control myself. Mostly these times happen around rather depressing events.
Sometimes I just get asked a question in therapy that makes me lose it. These questions usually have to do with my mother.
This is what I did on Friday when questioned about my birthday.
That's my thumb. I did that nice little cut with my nail.
Did it make me feel better? Yes, it did. For a short period. I could concentrate on the pain rather than the questions.
Sometimes I just get asked a question in therapy that makes me lose it. These questions usually have to do with my mother.
This is what I did on Friday when questioned about my birthday.
That's my thumb. I did that nice little cut with my nail.
Did it make me feel better? Yes, it did. For a short period. I could concentrate on the pain rather than the questions.
I don't know much
I don't know much about life. I don't know much about love or trust or friendship. What I do know a lot about is hurt, betrayal and abuse.
Before you start rolling your eyes and staring at the celing, this isn't another "woe is my life" entry. Okay, it is a little bit.
My last entry was about the proximity of my birthday and the relevance of that day in the relation to my mood. I got a couple of responses to that post and those responses have led me to thinking about what it means to be me.
An anonymous person left me a comment suggesting I make this year different. Start a new trend and make it better. I'd like to say that I could do that. I'd like to pretend that it's actually in my power. The reality of my situation is that right now, that suggestion is just not attainable for me.
I guess one needs to understand the depth of emotional pain I try to struggle with every day. However, I'm fully aware that no matter how long or how succinctly I explain, people will still be at a loss to understand the hopelessness.
Whoa, hold on there, I'm not saying that you, my reader, are not capable of understanding. I'm not even saying that no one can. I'm just saying that in this particular case I don't think the person realised the depth to which this time affects me.
And you know what? That's okay. I'm learning that people won't always understand. Yes, it still frustrates me, but I can't change their minds.
I used to think that my thoughts on the world wide web would be able to change the world. I was adamant that people would read my writing and would learn, understand and accept. It came as an incredibly harsh wake up call when I finally realised that people, as a whole, don't give a crap. People aren't interested in serious misery, in struggle or in hardships. No, people want to read stories with happy endings. I can't offer them a happy ending.
Sometimes, when contemplating the above, I wonder why I still write. The answer came one day when I was writing one of these entries. One day someone will read these. One day that person will understand and will empathise. One day these seemingly haunting entries will make sense to someone.
Whether I'm still writing when that happens is yet to be seen.
All I can do is write. This is my only refuge in the cruel world in which I live. Yes, this is melodramatic but so is life.
Before you start rolling your eyes and staring at the celing, this isn't another "woe is my life" entry. Okay, it is a little bit.
My last entry was about the proximity of my birthday and the relevance of that day in the relation to my mood. I got a couple of responses to that post and those responses have led me to thinking about what it means to be me.
An anonymous person left me a comment suggesting I make this year different. Start a new trend and make it better. I'd like to say that I could do that. I'd like to pretend that it's actually in my power. The reality of my situation is that right now, that suggestion is just not attainable for me.
I guess one needs to understand the depth of emotional pain I try to struggle with every day. However, I'm fully aware that no matter how long or how succinctly I explain, people will still be at a loss to understand the hopelessness.
Whoa, hold on there, I'm not saying that you, my reader, are not capable of understanding. I'm not even saying that no one can. I'm just saying that in this particular case I don't think the person realised the depth to which this time affects me.
And you know what? That's okay. I'm learning that people won't always understand. Yes, it still frustrates me, but I can't change their minds.
I used to think that my thoughts on the world wide web would be able to change the world. I was adamant that people would read my writing and would learn, understand and accept. It came as an incredibly harsh wake up call when I finally realised that people, as a whole, don't give a crap. People aren't interested in serious misery, in struggle or in hardships. No, people want to read stories with happy endings. I can't offer them a happy ending.
Sometimes, when contemplating the above, I wonder why I still write. The answer came one day when I was writing one of these entries. One day someone will read these. One day that person will understand and will empathise. One day these seemingly haunting entries will make sense to someone.
Whether I'm still writing when that happens is yet to be seen.
All I can do is write. This is my only refuge in the cruel world in which I live. Yes, this is melodramatic but so is life.
Bleak
Sometimes life takes an oversized shoe and kicks you in the arse.
Like always during this time of year I'm at my lowest point. My birthday is only a few short weeks away. For most their birthday is a great occasion. For me, it's the worst day of the year.
I'm always alone on that day. This year won't be any different.
It's really no wonder I make plans to end my life on my birthday. I have done since I was five.
So another day goes by. One day closer to that stupid farce of a day.
Like always during this time of year I'm at my lowest point. My birthday is only a few short weeks away. For most their birthday is a great occasion. For me, it's the worst day of the year.
I'm always alone on that day. This year won't be any different.
It's really no wonder I make plans to end my life on my birthday. I have done since I was five.
So another day goes by. One day closer to that stupid farce of a day.
Something to ponder
On rare occasions tv shows can surprise me. Very rare occasions.
I was watching Just Shoot Me. The bumbling shopaholic, alcoholic, drug experienced Nina Van Horne was doing a stint as a presenter on the red carpet of an awards night. The ditzy ex-model commented on the appalling outfit of one of the stars.
The fallout? Angry mobs outside the Blush magazine building. Outrage from press and other celebrities. The public cried for Nina's blood.
The show deteriorated at this point into the usual humdrum of American comedy.
Oh, right, you're wondering why there was such an outcry regarding a stars' couture. The star in question was in a wheelchair.
Without being insensitive I am of the view that someone in a wheelchair is exactly the same as an "able bodied" person. A person who has lost the use of their legs has not lost the use of their brain.
Whoa, hold on there with your hate mail. I'm not suggesting a person in a wheelchair should just get up and walk. Nor am I suggesting it's okay to patronise, disregard or abuse ANYONE.
What I am suggesting is the simple idea that maybe, just maybe, people (of all kinds, colours, shapes, sizes, religions, abilities, gender) might actually like being treated as an equal. Think about it for a minute.
How many times are people discriminated against?
Have there been times when you've walked away from a situation with a sour taste in your mouth?
Just Shoot Me got me thinking of all the times I'd been overlooked, carelessly ignored and, yes, discriminated against. Now I've never been in a wheelchair, I've never had a disability and, by most accounts, I'm "normal". However, I do have a disorder. This apparently doesn't make me stupid, but rather "complicated".
Yet I've still felt the humiliation and anger at having been discriminiated against.
I worked with someone at Telstra who decided that because I'm fat, she would be rude, condescending and patronising to me. There were many times others noticed her antics, however no one would speak against her. Not even me.
So what did I want? I wanted her to treat me like she treated everyone else; fairly.
Unlike Just Shoot Me, I didn't have a happy ending. The "star" in question from the show ended up making a press release explaining that he was thrilled someone treated him like everyone else. Nina didn't notice the chair in which the guy sat. She criticised his choice of clothes. Just like she did with everyone else.
I rarely get the luxury of people seeing past my weight. Apparently I'm not worth knowing.
If only life were as simple as they are in tv shows.
I was watching Just Shoot Me. The bumbling shopaholic, alcoholic, drug experienced Nina Van Horne was doing a stint as a presenter on the red carpet of an awards night. The ditzy ex-model commented on the appalling outfit of one of the stars.
The fallout? Angry mobs outside the Blush magazine building. Outrage from press and other celebrities. The public cried for Nina's blood.
The show deteriorated at this point into the usual humdrum of American comedy.
Oh, right, you're wondering why there was such an outcry regarding a stars' couture. The star in question was in a wheelchair.
Without being insensitive I am of the view that someone in a wheelchair is exactly the same as an "able bodied" person. A person who has lost the use of their legs has not lost the use of their brain.
Whoa, hold on there with your hate mail. I'm not suggesting a person in a wheelchair should just get up and walk. Nor am I suggesting it's okay to patronise, disregard or abuse ANYONE.
What I am suggesting is the simple idea that maybe, just maybe, people (of all kinds, colours, shapes, sizes, religions, abilities, gender) might actually like being treated as an equal. Think about it for a minute.
How many times are people discriminated against?
Have there been times when you've walked away from a situation with a sour taste in your mouth?
Just Shoot Me got me thinking of all the times I'd been overlooked, carelessly ignored and, yes, discriminated against. Now I've never been in a wheelchair, I've never had a disability and, by most accounts, I'm "normal". However, I do have a disorder. This apparently doesn't make me stupid, but rather "complicated".
Yet I've still felt the humiliation and anger at having been discriminiated against.
I worked with someone at Telstra who decided that because I'm fat, she would be rude, condescending and patronising to me. There were many times others noticed her antics, however no one would speak against her. Not even me.
So what did I want? I wanted her to treat me like she treated everyone else; fairly.
Unlike Just Shoot Me, I didn't have a happy ending. The "star" in question from the show ended up making a press release explaining that he was thrilled someone treated him like everyone else. Nina didn't notice the chair in which the guy sat. She criticised his choice of clothes. Just like she did with everyone else.
I rarely get the luxury of people seeing past my weight. Apparently I'm not worth knowing.
If only life were as simple as they are in tv shows.
Consumed in Anger
I am filled with anger. There is so much anger swirling around in my head, my body, I'm having trouble concentrating on breathing.
By breathing I mean literally breathing, not the take-a-deep-breath-and-calm-down kind. My temples are throbbing and my jaw is so clenched I swear my teeth are about to crack. Indeed, every muscle in my body is tensed and ready to uncoil.
I hear your question, why am I so angry? That's easy, I don't know. I suspect at some point I did know, however that has long passed. Now all I am left with is red hot anger.
Fist clenching, jaw grinding, brow furrowed, burning, muscle tightening; anger.
By breathing I mean literally breathing, not the take-a-deep-breath-and-calm-down kind. My temples are throbbing and my jaw is so clenched I swear my teeth are about to crack. Indeed, every muscle in my body is tensed and ready to uncoil.
I hear your question, why am I so angry? That's easy, I don't know. I suspect at some point I did know, however that has long passed. Now all I am left with is red hot anger.
Fist clenching, jaw grinding, brow furrowed, burning, muscle tightening; anger.
The Bitchy Files.
So much can change from one day to the next. The surprising part is that it's not always bad.
I woke up today and for the first time in a very long time I wasn't wishing I was dead.
Before you get your hopes up it doesn't mean I'm better.
You see, I finally found some kind of backbone. I decided it was time to clean up some aspects of my life. Starting with the removal of negative people and influences. So many people think it's okay to be passive aggressive and rude. I'm here to tell you it isn't okay. Not for me.
There are many kinds of people out there, many who I will meet, many who I won't, some I'll get along well with and others I won't. I have no allusions regarding the way life can be.
The part I despise are people who spend all day bitching about others. I'm not talking venting, I'm talking serious bitchiness. Everyone will bitch, this is part of being human, but I think some people take it to extremes.
Perhaps I'm just being overly sensitive again. However, I'm glad I no longer have those people, the extreme bitchiness, in my life. Maybe now I can find some peace as I'm no longer stressing about whether or not I'm being treated badly. Maybe.
I woke up today and for the first time in a very long time I wasn't wishing I was dead.
Before you get your hopes up it doesn't mean I'm better.
You see, I finally found some kind of backbone. I decided it was time to clean up some aspects of my life. Starting with the removal of negative people and influences. So many people think it's okay to be passive aggressive and rude. I'm here to tell you it isn't okay. Not for me.
There are many kinds of people out there, many who I will meet, many who I won't, some I'll get along well with and others I won't. I have no allusions regarding the way life can be.
The part I despise are people who spend all day bitching about others. I'm not talking venting, I'm talking serious bitchiness. Everyone will bitch, this is part of being human, but I think some people take it to extremes.
Perhaps I'm just being overly sensitive again. However, I'm glad I no longer have those people, the extreme bitchiness, in my life. Maybe now I can find some peace as I'm no longer stressing about whether or not I'm being treated badly. Maybe.