Afraid Of Everyone
With that, I hope it will be the last sorrowful posts of that sort I will post. Sorry if I brought down anyones day.. It wasn’t spectacular writing, either [none of this is].
I am changing myself, my surroundings. I plan to, at least. I refuse to be a slave to emotion, or actions others take, or situations I find myself faced with. I can remain the same, but I will change. Think caterpillar - butterfly transformation.
Think of me with a huge smile and my mother and I not talking but still alive.
I read somewhere that whatever you do on New Years day, is a precursor to what the rest of your year will be like. In that case, someone will forever be fucking me and leaving me. And I won’t be working much of this year at all. Which is fine by me. The second part.
Speaking of sexual liberation: What a joke that is. As most of you will know, I developed sexually very young. What most of you don’t: I was having cyber sex with strangers on the internet at the age of nine. And what none of you do: I wrote from a very young age, but from the age of eight, I wrote illicit sex stories. I read my fathers Penthouse magazines and found that most were written by men. I wrote my own, and they were better. My favourite was one set on a train involving a threesome with a strong silent type and a woman with soft, cool hands.
Yeah, so there was that.
I like people. Meaning; I like women and men. I am attracted to differing qualities in different people, not different genders. I am also indifferent to age difference. Lust and attraction, love, even, can transcend most plains. I am not embarassed by this. My Father would accuse me of liking females because I am ‘wanting to be different’. Why, why the fuck, would I chose to be with someone I can’t even hold hands with on the street? I am vegetarian. The first time I chose this path, I was seven. He accused me of wanting to be different then, too.
Even if I was [which I wasn’t], what the fuck would be so bad about that? I respect my Father. Even as much of my youth was spent absolutely abhorring him and regarding him simple and unable to comprehend the simplest of emotion. In recent times, I have seen him in a completely different light. Which is pleasant. He still treats me like I know nothing, my sister noted this, even though I am actually the most capable of all of his children, so far. But I respect him. In saying that, his view of the world differs hugely to mine. He shares his view with his wife. Simple minds. They would rather I binge drink in little dresses on the weekends, I’m sure, than pierce my face and contemplate tattoos and spend hours in cafes just writing. He would prefer I didn’t make friends with people his age, or kiss girls in public places. He would prefer I got a license and went for a road-trip with friends, maybe. Not stay in my city and embarrass myself. Not that I do. My actions are my own, and therefore I am proud of them.
A friend once said I had a ‘sexual energy’, which I completely disagreed with. I believe you wouldn’t know how much of a deviant I am and have been, if you met me through friends. He was adamant, though. I am not so sure.
The idea of sex, though, is something that has always interested me. It is something I am always furtively honest about. It’s not a big deal.
I don’t know where I’m going with this. It’s late. My change starts today, and I have to be awake and kicking down dirty doors in four hours.
But now maybe you know something about me you may not have.
You probably don’t feel better for it, but then, neither do I.