Another sleepless night. The lights are still on in the kitchen. Food still out. Today feels like a continuation of yesterday, and yesterday the inside of my head scared me.
The morning began with me projectile vomiting bile all over the living room while my daughter forced happiness the way she does when something's going wrong, the way I used to as a kid, the way she does whenever I get this sick. And I was so weak the whole day I could not control my temper. And the thoughts streaming through my head...
A few weeks back I went to a party of sort. Hadn't been to one in a year. I knew I was walking in a wolf's den but I felt a call I couldn't stop. I knew I had to be there I wasn't sure why. I was looking for a lesson and I found one.
After the man I've been wailing quite pathetically about (the one who was neither into me nor my child, a man who has unintentionally inflicted the world of pain I've been living in for almost a year now, a man I've aptly dubbed 'The Wart Hog') accused me of infecting him with HPV, I stumbled to my tent absolutely dejected. I could barely formulate a thought.
The gears didn't start turning until later (he claims I infected him because I've had symptoms of it...seven years ago. I'm ironically, still friends with the person who infected me, partially because I understood then that there was no way for me to specifically pinpoint it on him, and they told me my body would clear the virus within two years and really, after the initial treatment it was no longer an issue. When I got with my ex, he already had it. In fact, whoever's reading it does, as well.
Welcome to the club.
I haven't had any since, until three months after I laid with him, which is the standard incubation period for, in my case, reinfection, but he would never see it as such, because he has to put the blame on some one, and it can't be his previous probably Caucasian and more 'suitable' partner...) A month and a half after being with me, he was symptomatic, there fore I did it. I have no symptoms for seven years, sleep with him, suddenly have symptoms, but I'm the one who gave it to him.
Since he's so right, and I'm so unwilling to take responsibility, according to him, I'll concede and take the blame for everything since according to him, I'm unstable.
The next morning, I woke up to another man, someone I know, calling my name. I answered and he entered my tent carrying a drink. The first thing my daughter did is grab her shoes and run out. His hands were warm on my back as he asked me if I needed help with my corset, and I agreed.
He unlaced me and I peeled it off. Next thing I know I'm being slammed down, his giant hand is wrapping around my neck and my clothing is pulled off. It's funny, at that moment, all I could think off was the other man, who had, once again, made it clear that not only was I only good enough to satisfy his lust, once, in passing, but I was a diseased, unstable slut on top of it.
Rape, forced sex, domination, medieval seduction, however one would interpret what took place in that tent that morning, however one's sanity chooses to preserve itself when acquainted with such an ambiguous situation, was surprisingly more tolerable than standing in front of that man and taking the blame for his irresponsibility.
So there I was, underneath this dominant male who had made it clear, for a year now, that we would be lovers, and saying it loud enough for everyone to hear. At first I thought he was joking. Then I was just plain terrified of the way he made me feel...a mixture of adoration and lust...but mostly fear. I thought he had gotten over what I assumed was no more than a surface interest, like wanting to eat sushi because it's an exotic meal, dark meat is what men go for when they're looking for no strings attached fun in the sack, but I hadn't realized how determined he was to lay with me. I went on to have a brief, very brief fling with him. His lady isn't very happy about it, from what I've heard. But she should take it up with him, not me.
I submitted to him because I had no fucking choice. He didn't give me one. He at least respected my request not to be penetrated in that tent...but I was reeling inside. Where the fuck was she, when he decided to take me?
I had this moment when memories I try not to think about, memories that reside in a vault in my head surfaced...something about being picked up in that manner....won't go into details. The kind of memories that would have me freezing in my tracks when I was seven, eight, nine, wondering if my mind had all fabricated it all... Detached observation of fragmented horror, then a filling of some sort, affirmation: "I don't want to think about it"....
That was the process before puberty set in and the nightmare started again. But I don't want to talk about that.
I had this moment when everything when quiet in my head and all I heard was static. And I don't think I've been the same since.
I wanted him, I'll admit to that. I'm pretty sure I've loved him a little since our first moment together. He's a fascinating beast of a man...yes, a simple creature, and every time I saw him around town my heart would leap, but that was before a few weeks ago. Now I just don't understand why he had to go out of his way to make me his whore.
I did not want to get involved with him because he has a partner, and as usual, I'm too fractured to love but fucked up enough to manhandle! That's the category they place me in. Especially a man as intelligent as he. I'm sure he, like the psychic in Calgary, could read my scars like a book. He told me in fact, that something told him I would handle him treating me like that. Is it the look in my eyes? Is it my color? The fact that I have no real friends and no one to protect me so he felt he can take liberties with me? Is that why he kept asking me to look at him in the eyes, so I wouldn't zone out and disassociate while he bit and slapped me?
When he was done he came back in the tent and held me tenderly... felt like I could melt right there and then...makes this less scary than it could have been, but the pressure of his hand around my throat was real.
I wanted to rub my face in his chest the first night I met him. Somehow ended up in his arms in front of his ex, and thought I wouldn't see him again, because I was a stranger he'd cuddled with and he had a mate. I saw him around again and every time I did I felt drawn to him but I told him not to approach me until he was separated from his partner. Instead, looks like a year went by, and the next time he had me at arms reach, he took what he wanted and I allowed it to happen because my defenses were down. I felt tired, cheap and worn. I went slack into his arms and stopped fighting and allowed pleasure to roll over me. I cried. I am weak.
When he held me he kept saying my name, and I kissed him the way I used to kiss my ex after he was done blowing up at me. That paralleled right into my thoughts as it occurred even though, he, my ex, never raised his hands to me.One night, however, he threw a beer can in my face, and I left his apartment, terrified, but came back. He was apologetic and wanted to have sex and sleeping with him that night felt the same.
I wondered if my self esteem was really so low that I would still feel desire for someone that hurt me but it wasn't that. I didn't resent him at all, I was scared of him. I allowed him to exert his power over me. I was scared of everything and everyone around me at that moment. I loved him at the same time. So I just let go. And when he was done I pretended nothing happened and heard static.
A woman I know happened to walk by then and screamed out loud that I should go take care of my kid, because she was running unattended. Because after a slut is tamed and put back in her place, she should be shamed. I said nothing.
And while the inside of my head was roaring, my heart felt numb. The cards had warned me of incoming sexual activity. I didn't plan it. I wanted to dance that night but the whole evening revolved around me making a fool of myself trying to extract information out of the other man. The wart hog. Four of pentacles and the high priestess. I felt he had a secret. I was hoping it was that he actually wasn't as cold as he came across but oh boy I had no idea what I was in for that weekend.
It has taken me months to break through the confusion that man arose in me, but that night, and the events of the following morning made things crystal clear for me. It validated the suspicion I had about these people I foolishly called 'friends' and it illuminated a path for me. One far away from all of them.
One thing I had such a hard time understanding was why this other man, the one who entered my tent, had to force me into a fling with him. If he never planned to leave his girlfriend, and he seems to have plenty of groupies to satisfy his extraneous urges. Why does it make these men feel so big reducing me to a couple of holes with lips?
Maybe there is no understanding lust. It just rides you and if you're lucky, you have consent. And when he's done with you he goes and find a girl more suitable to be human with.
They are so jealous of me. Even the wart hog. Jealous of my youth, jealous of my ideas, jealous of my dreams, jealous of my experience, jealous of my luck. The ladies are jealous of my looks and the dumb attention I get from their men. That's why I can't be an equal. The way he always talks down to me often goads me into acting dumb just to see how much more he could infantalize me. And it's as vexing as it is amusing, as it is disheartening. I need to get away from these people and focus on my own goals.
I just want to stop feeling like I'm dying inside. I wish I could turn it off like a switch but I haven't figured out how to yet. That's why I can't sleep. I'm trying to continue existing in an environment that's hostile to me and I cannot form bonds with these people. They are not my allies. I don't trust them. I don't trust anyone, I never have. Folks just keep giving me reasons to. I'm slowly allowing other people's bullshit to atrophy the person I used to be...when I was a child, before the darkness swallowed me and I became no more than a sex object.
Every day I wake up feels like a fight for survival and the only times I'm happy is by myself in the middle of nature. I had this delusion, about finding a man I could be myself with. This desire for a teacher, lover, friend that wasn't based in the reality I live. The one in which I must retreat to 'my own castle' for survival and sanity.
I'm a leaf blowing in the wind and I fear for my daughter, since I'm the only one caring for her. Especially when I'm too weak to move. I regret bringing a child into this mess of an existence. I hope men treat her better when she's older.
I regret thinking I could do what my father told me I couldn't, form bonds and relationships with others outside of my own culture, where I'm accepted and loved. In fact, I'm a fool for thinking that after a lifetime of nothing but abusive treatment at the hand of men, or disdain, that I would finally find this mythical, magical male who would hold my hand no matter what.
Perhaps not in this lifetime and I'm coming to terms with that. Don't seem to be able to let go of the obsession of having a mate, it's an illness. Lords knows how long I have left, there are mornings when I wake up and it feels like my heart is slowing down. I'm probably a decade or two then hopefully stomach cancer takes me.
Nothing makes me sicker than the fact that every time I lay eyes on him, especially when he's wearing those orange pants, I want nothing more than to peel them off with my teeth. I want to run to him and I want him to embrace me. It makes me nauseous just admitting it. But I will because I'm always the one with extraneous unwanted feelings. How unstable of me. It makes me feel creepy. I do not want that man to make me feel that knowing how insignificant I am to him and I pray they just go away.
I'm not broken, just waiting for respect. And if it isn't going to be given to me I will keep everything and everyone else at a distance and take what I want. And if that fails I will get colder, even colder than I've become. Learn how to inflict pain and sorrow onto those that stand in the way of what I desire. Learn how to make others take the blame. Seems to be the way of this world. My daughter can't afford me breaking. She's my lifeline, she's the only one keeping me on this shit hole I despise.
Thank you for the lesson, assholes.
The morning began with me projectile vomiting bile all over the living room while my daughter forced happiness the way she does when something's going wrong, the way I used to as a kid, the way she does whenever I get this sick. And I was so weak the whole day I could not control my temper. And the thoughts streaming through my head...
A few weeks back I went to a party of sort. Hadn't been to one in a year. I knew I was walking in a wolf's den but I felt a call I couldn't stop. I knew I had to be there I wasn't sure why. I was looking for a lesson and I found one.
After the man I've been wailing quite pathetically about (the one who was neither into me nor my child, a man who has unintentionally inflicted the world of pain I've been living in for almost a year now, a man I've aptly dubbed 'The Wart Hog') accused me of infecting him with HPV, I stumbled to my tent absolutely dejected. I could barely formulate a thought.
The gears didn't start turning until later (he claims I infected him because I've had symptoms of it...seven years ago. I'm ironically, still friends with the person who infected me, partially because I understood then that there was no way for me to specifically pinpoint it on him, and they told me my body would clear the virus within two years and really, after the initial treatment it was no longer an issue. When I got with my ex, he already had it. In fact, whoever's reading it does, as well.
Welcome to the club.
I haven't had any since, until three months after I laid with him, which is the standard incubation period for, in my case, reinfection, but he would never see it as such, because he has to put the blame on some one, and it can't be his previous probably Caucasian and more 'suitable' partner...) A month and a half after being with me, he was symptomatic, there fore I did it. I have no symptoms for seven years, sleep with him, suddenly have symptoms, but I'm the one who gave it to him.
Since he's so right, and I'm so unwilling to take responsibility, according to him, I'll concede and take the blame for everything since according to him, I'm unstable.
The next morning, I woke up to another man, someone I know, calling my name. I answered and he entered my tent carrying a drink. The first thing my daughter did is grab her shoes and run out. His hands were warm on my back as he asked me if I needed help with my corset, and I agreed.
He unlaced me and I peeled it off. Next thing I know I'm being slammed down, his giant hand is wrapping around my neck and my clothing is pulled off. It's funny, at that moment, all I could think off was the other man, who had, once again, made it clear that not only was I only good enough to satisfy his lust, once, in passing, but I was a diseased, unstable slut on top of it.
Rape, forced sex, domination, medieval seduction, however one would interpret what took place in that tent that morning, however one's sanity chooses to preserve itself when acquainted with such an ambiguous situation, was surprisingly more tolerable than standing in front of that man and taking the blame for his irresponsibility.
So there I was, underneath this dominant male who had made it clear, for a year now, that we would be lovers, and saying it loud enough for everyone to hear. At first I thought he was joking. Then I was just plain terrified of the way he made me feel...a mixture of adoration and lust...but mostly fear. I thought he had gotten over what I assumed was no more than a surface interest, like wanting to eat sushi because it's an exotic meal, dark meat is what men go for when they're looking for no strings attached fun in the sack, but I hadn't realized how determined he was to lay with me. I went on to have a brief, very brief fling with him. His lady isn't very happy about it, from what I've heard. But she should take it up with him, not me.
I submitted to him because I had no fucking choice. He didn't give me one. He at least respected my request not to be penetrated in that tent...but I was reeling inside. Where the fuck was she, when he decided to take me?
I had this moment when memories I try not to think about, memories that reside in a vault in my head surfaced...something about being picked up in that manner....won't go into details. The kind of memories that would have me freezing in my tracks when I was seven, eight, nine, wondering if my mind had all fabricated it all... Detached observation of fragmented horror, then a filling of some sort, affirmation: "I don't want to think about it"....
That was the process before puberty set in and the nightmare started again. But I don't want to talk about that.
I had this moment when everything when quiet in my head and all I heard was static. And I don't think I've been the same since.
I wanted him, I'll admit to that. I'm pretty sure I've loved him a little since our first moment together. He's a fascinating beast of a man...yes, a simple creature, and every time I saw him around town my heart would leap, but that was before a few weeks ago. Now I just don't understand why he had to go out of his way to make me his whore.
I did not want to get involved with him because he has a partner, and as usual, I'm too fractured to love but fucked up enough to manhandle! That's the category they place me in. Especially a man as intelligent as he. I'm sure he, like the psychic in Calgary, could read my scars like a book. He told me in fact, that something told him I would handle him treating me like that. Is it the look in my eyes? Is it my color? The fact that I have no real friends and no one to protect me so he felt he can take liberties with me? Is that why he kept asking me to look at him in the eyes, so I wouldn't zone out and disassociate while he bit and slapped me?
When he was done he came back in the tent and held me tenderly... felt like I could melt right there and then...makes this less scary than it could have been, but the pressure of his hand around my throat was real.
I wanted to rub my face in his chest the first night I met him. Somehow ended up in his arms in front of his ex, and thought I wouldn't see him again, because I was a stranger he'd cuddled with and he had a mate. I saw him around again and every time I did I felt drawn to him but I told him not to approach me until he was separated from his partner. Instead, looks like a year went by, and the next time he had me at arms reach, he took what he wanted and I allowed it to happen because my defenses were down. I felt tired, cheap and worn. I went slack into his arms and stopped fighting and allowed pleasure to roll over me. I cried. I am weak.
When he held me he kept saying my name, and I kissed him the way I used to kiss my ex after he was done blowing up at me. That paralleled right into my thoughts as it occurred even though, he, my ex, never raised his hands to me.One night, however, he threw a beer can in my face, and I left his apartment, terrified, but came back. He was apologetic and wanted to have sex and sleeping with him that night felt the same.
I wondered if my self esteem was really so low that I would still feel desire for someone that hurt me but it wasn't that. I didn't resent him at all, I was scared of him. I allowed him to exert his power over me. I was scared of everything and everyone around me at that moment. I loved him at the same time. So I just let go. And when he was done I pretended nothing happened and heard static.
A woman I know happened to walk by then and screamed out loud that I should go take care of my kid, because she was running unattended. Because after a slut is tamed and put back in her place, she should be shamed. I said nothing.
And while the inside of my head was roaring, my heart felt numb. The cards had warned me of incoming sexual activity. I didn't plan it. I wanted to dance that night but the whole evening revolved around me making a fool of myself trying to extract information out of the other man. The wart hog. Four of pentacles and the high priestess. I felt he had a secret. I was hoping it was that he actually wasn't as cold as he came across but oh boy I had no idea what I was in for that weekend.
It has taken me months to break through the confusion that man arose in me, but that night, and the events of the following morning made things crystal clear for me. It validated the suspicion I had about these people I foolishly called 'friends' and it illuminated a path for me. One far away from all of them.
One thing I had such a hard time understanding was why this other man, the one who entered my tent, had to force me into a fling with him. If he never planned to leave his girlfriend, and he seems to have plenty of groupies to satisfy his extraneous urges. Why does it make these men feel so big reducing me to a couple of holes with lips?
Maybe there is no understanding lust. It just rides you and if you're lucky, you have consent. And when he's done with you he goes and find a girl more suitable to be human with.
They are so jealous of me. Even the wart hog. Jealous of my youth, jealous of my ideas, jealous of my dreams, jealous of my experience, jealous of my luck. The ladies are jealous of my looks and the dumb attention I get from their men. That's why I can't be an equal. The way he always talks down to me often goads me into acting dumb just to see how much more he could infantalize me. And it's as vexing as it is amusing, as it is disheartening. I need to get away from these people and focus on my own goals.
I just want to stop feeling like I'm dying inside. I wish I could turn it off like a switch but I haven't figured out how to yet. That's why I can't sleep. I'm trying to continue existing in an environment that's hostile to me and I cannot form bonds with these people. They are not my allies. I don't trust them. I don't trust anyone, I never have. Folks just keep giving me reasons to. I'm slowly allowing other people's bullshit to atrophy the person I used to be...when I was a child, before the darkness swallowed me and I became no more than a sex object.
Every day I wake up feels like a fight for survival and the only times I'm happy is by myself in the middle of nature. I had this delusion, about finding a man I could be myself with. This desire for a teacher, lover, friend that wasn't based in the reality I live. The one in which I must retreat to 'my own castle' for survival and sanity.
I'm a leaf blowing in the wind and I fear for my daughter, since I'm the only one caring for her. Especially when I'm too weak to move. I regret bringing a child into this mess of an existence. I hope men treat her better when she's older.
I regret thinking I could do what my father told me I couldn't, form bonds and relationships with others outside of my own culture, where I'm accepted and loved. In fact, I'm a fool for thinking that after a lifetime of nothing but abusive treatment at the hand of men, or disdain, that I would finally find this mythical, magical male who would hold my hand no matter what.
Perhaps not in this lifetime and I'm coming to terms with that. Don't seem to be able to let go of the obsession of having a mate, it's an illness. Lords knows how long I have left, there are mornings when I wake up and it feels like my heart is slowing down. I'm probably a decade or two then hopefully stomach cancer takes me.
Nothing makes me sicker than the fact that every time I lay eyes on him, especially when he's wearing those orange pants, I want nothing more than to peel them off with my teeth. I want to run to him and I want him to embrace me. It makes me nauseous just admitting it. But I will because I'm always the one with extraneous unwanted feelings. How unstable of me. It makes me feel creepy. I do not want that man to make me feel that knowing how insignificant I am to him and I pray they just go away.
I'm not broken, just waiting for respect. And if it isn't going to be given to me I will keep everything and everyone else at a distance and take what I want. And if that fails I will get colder, even colder than I've become. Learn how to inflict pain and sorrow onto those that stand in the way of what I desire. Learn how to make others take the blame. Seems to be the way of this world. My daughter can't afford me breaking. She's my lifeline, she's the only one keeping me on this shit hole I despise.
Thank you for the lesson, assholes.
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