I think it's pretty apparent that I'm not the picture of mental or emotional health, but believe me when I say I used to be waaaaay worse. I feel really guilty and stupid about all of the creepy, stupid, and nutty shit I've pulled in the past. I thought, maybe if I wrote about it that I wouldn't feel so embarassed about it anymore.
I'd say that in the past couple of years I've gotten a lot better about not being such a crazy bitch when it comes to relationships. I'm totally guilty of threatening suicide anytime some dick I was "in love" with wanted to start fucking someone else or leave me. I used to call this one guy until he answered his phone, which would sometimes be a ridiculous amount of incessant and obsessive calling. I've pounded on doors, crying and begging for explainations on why they weren't with me. I've gotten in fights after finding dudes with other girls in public places. I've feigned pregnancies and tragedies as a means to gain some kind of sympathy or sign of concern out of men. When I was a teenager, I'd fall in love with every guy that I gave a blowjob to, and really believed that they might date me someday if I let them fuck me or suck their dick. I don't know what exactly made me stop this behavior, but when I look back on it I feel so ashamed and wonder why I would torture myself by obsessing over these men that didn't love or even want me.
Okay, so I still jack off a lot, but not nearly as much as I used to. I know the reason for my doing this is because of my being molested and whatnot. When I was little (pre-pubescent) I would write really dirty letters to boys I knew (most of the time my brother's older friends) and then read them and jack off to them. I also used to draw pictures of tits, cunts, and dicks for my own perverted reasons.
The first time I tried to commit suicide I was 5 or 6. I tried to hang myself from a coathook in my bedroom. I'm not sure what set me off. The second time I was 13. I drank two bottles of iodine with a Coca-Cola chaser after my dad beat the shit out of me for "smelling like cigarettes" when I had honestly not been smoking. I'll never forget the taste of that awful shit. It was years before I could drink Coke again without it making me think of that retched taste. I've worthlessly slashed my wrists two different times, but just couldn't do it deeply enough. I barely even left any scars. I've attempted to commit suicide two different times on someone who fucked me over's property so that they would have to find my body and look really bad when the cops showed up pulling out a dead girl. Obviously, I didn't die. I feel stupid every day for not being successful and pissed off that the last time I planned out how I was going to steal a gun to blow my brains out someone beat me to ganking the gat.
I used to be terrible about digging through people's shit. It was at its worst when I was about 13 or 14. My brother's then girlfriend had a lot of boxes in our basement and I used to dig through them. I found her abortion paperwork, sex toys, and porn. She was about six sizes smaller than me, but I'd try on her clothes. I'd read her old love letters, snoop through her documents, and use her perfume. One day I got busted and she was REALLY pissed. I still feel guilty about it to this very day. When I was in high school I would skip class to go out in the parking lot and dig around in people's cars. Sometimes if I hadn't slept for days I'd take naps in them. Sometimes I'd stay at school after everyone left and just dig in people's lockers. I don't know why I found it so entertaining. It was stupid. It wasn't like anyone had anything worth stealing. The one time I did steal, I ended up going to jail for two years. Over a fucking CD Walkman. That sure did make me not want to have much to do with that anymore. Plus, the older I got, I realized that going through people's shit usually just made me find out shit about them that I didn't want to know, so eventually, I completely gave it up. I found a new thing to dig through called the internet. Ha ha.
I have a compulsion to pick at my skin. I started at my scalp because it was always covered by my hair, but later on moved to other areas of my body. Most of the time I just try to keep with the picking of blemishes or already formed scabs, but when I can't find any, I'll make new ones. Every once in a while, I'll occupy myself for well over an hour doing this. Sometimes when I start running the water for a shower I'll take my clothes off and start picking. By the time I stop and get into the shower, the water will have already begun to run cold.
Okay, I'm not completely over this one yet. Sometimes I'll be telling someone or a group of people about an event or a story and if I sense that they're not interested in it enough I'll find myself beginning to exaggerate or adding fabricated parts to it. After I realize what I'm doing, it's too late, and I can't take it back. Then I'll feel really guilty and stupid about it for years afterward. The last time I did this was in December and I haven't done it since. I'm starting to learn how to catch myself when the lie wheels start turning in my brain. I really hope that I get a handle on this because I don't want to end up like my mother. As far back as I can remember, my mom has lied about everything from what she does when she's gone to the color of her own shit. Sometimes I'll hear her on the phone with someone lying her fucking ass off about something she knows that I know the truth about, but her knowing that I'm there does nothing to stop her. I've gotten to the point where I just don't ask her about anything anymore because I know that it's going to lead to having to hear a big string of lies.
Wow. Now that I've finished writing this I do kind of realize that this stuff isn't as bad as what I thought it was. It did help to write about it. I'm glad I did. I know so many more people that are way more fucked up than I am. Whew.