Blah blah blah self-centered rambling.
Heh. I'm at this point right now where I miss everything. I'm chugging 151 and listening to Britney Spears (HEH) and every fucking song is some indicator of a better time in my life. Sad, eh?
In The Zone came out when I was still with Don and a lazy-ass, fat, unemployed piece of shit, but I was pretty happy. Randy, Doom and I used to roll around Everett eating Taco Bell and blasting it. Not that I miss Randy, he turned out to be a psychotic pile of shit, but I miss the era.
Blackout. Rollin' around Marysville with Mike. Better times at Guess, i.e. not crying in the stockroom three times a week. Heh.
I completely lost where I was going with this. Who cares. I'ma ramble with no real regard to anyone reading this or their desire to read anything in a chronological and/or relevant order. Welcome to my brain.
Why do I fall in love with anyone who has a penis and shows me the slightest bit of attention? Seriously? Where the fuck did this come from? Not really sitting here and boohoo-ing about it, I'm really interested in traveling to my past and finding the exact moment where my brain's chemistry decided to re-wire itself in such a horrible fashion. The honest-to-god truth is that I'm never interested in someone unless they show some sort of interest first. And my brain usually misconstrues friendliness as romantic interest. Let's have a rundown of my 'romantic' history.
I was molested all throughout my childhood by my peers, my step-brother and one of my mother's boyfriends. I'll leave it at that. I never dwelled on it or anything, but these experiences HAD to have played a part in how fucked up I am today.
Patrick. This is where everything came tumbling down at the tender age of 12. His friend conned me into 'going out' with him in my front yard. I found him to be repellant at first. But the second he (literally) started molesting me on the school bus, I was infatuated. He constantly made advances at me that I was way too young to even think about dealing with, called me awful names, and eventually raped my virginity on my friend's living room floor the summer of '97. My 'friend' went and hid, and I gave up fighting him off and just let it happen. The entire student body knew I was a 'whore' by the time school started back up. I never bothered to tell anyone the truth because, honestly, I didn't want to deal with a lawsuit or my parents hunting the fucker down, killing him and ending up in prison for the rest of their lives. That whole experience haunted me until around 9th grade and I was the biggest whore Arlington ever knew.
Mike was a guy who lived down the street and decided I was worthy of fooling around with for about a month when I was 14. He then disappeared.
Emmett was a horrible disaster. I met him at my friend Tammi's "OMGSCHOOL'SOVERFORHTESUMMERYAAAYYYY!!!" party. He was friends with Aaron, her boyfriend at the time. We all went out into Tammi's field, got stoned, then Emmett and I found ourselves up in Tammi's room all but having sex. We got each other's numbers and started talking nearly every day. He came over a couple times regaling me with tales about how he's been in all these orgies and got a blowjob on a bus. HEH. I immediately slept with him and that's pretty much all we did all summer. I started experiencing all these delusions that we were in love and we were gonna get married and all this shit. I got a call from Rachell, my best friend at the time, when school started back up and she said she saw him fooling around with some blonde girl at the park she hung out at. I freaked. We were on-again off-again for the next two years. Every time he broke up with me we would both try to kill ourselves. Fucking tragic. This constant cycle eventually found me in Fairfax, a psychiatric hospital in Kirkland, for a week.
I don't want to go into Darryl. He was a fucking pile of shit and I only liked him after he showed sexual interest in me. But with HIM, the tables had turned. He used to freak out because he thought I didn't love him and threaten to kill himself because he was 'so in love with me'. He turned out to be a (clinical) schizophrenic who was a nazi one day and an anarchist the next. He was eventually hospitalized.
We were 15.
Chris was Chev's friend who thought I was hot. All but slept with him in Chev's then-boyfriend Johnny's camper.
Then I met Don. I used to tell myself everything was perfect, but it was far from it. He was a very, very mean alcoholic and he was constantly flip-flopping between being desperately in love with me to putting me down for absolutely no reason. But he became my world and I rarely saw anyone other than him for the next five years. Eventually married him. Had an early quarter-life crisis at 21 and left him out of the blue. We're still not divorced.
Randy. Dear god. He told me he was interested, so after a few days I warmed up to the idea and decided to date him. Worst decision I ever made in my life. He turned out to be very, very strange and nearly suicidal. Somehow I became obsessed. See? I have no idea where the transformation occurs. Finally got fed up almost a year in and cheated on him several times with this douchebag Trevor, who lost interest in me when he discovered he could have probably had me. I didn't leave Randy because while I couldn't stand him, I was still terrified of what he was gonna do to himself.
Somewhere during one of me and Randy's breaks, I dated my very good friend John. The timing was horrible and I fucked that up really, really badly and I don't wish to go into it. I guess he just wasn't emotionally-unstable enough for me. Jesus. I'm a RETARD. Hindsight is fucking 20/20.
Terry. He was a fucking dream come true. It took me a while to finally decide to date him because I had heard bad things about his former relationship with my old friend Jenea. But he actually loved me. Really, actually loved me. Then I drove drunk, started to get sick while driving and had him take over. Got pulled over and he got another DUI. Part of him has hated me ever since then. We've been on-again, off-again for the last eight months or so.
THEN! Oh, it gets worse! Somewhere in my confusion over Terry, I fell for my best friend. WHO IS GAY. Of course, I responded in such a way because we seemed to actually GET each other and he flirts with me all the time. Not his fault. Gay men DO THAT. It's my fucking stupidity for trying to read into something that just isn't there. I generally just live with it, but when I get drunk it comes out like a crazed fucking crackwhore hooker wanting her goddamn money. Very nearly lost him because of it.
Then I slept with someone recently whose name will NOT be mentioned because it was such a horrible, horrible decision. Drunkenness + confusion about aforementioned person + clobbering the nearest straight male = recipe for disaster.
I dunno. I don't know why I'm spilling all this to you seven lovely people. Maybe one of you can make sense of it for me. I sure as hell can't.
At least I gathered some things from this, though.
-I never go after people because I'm deathly afraid of rejection/I've had too many bad experiences in the past.
-I'm never interested in anyone unless they show interest first, because of the aforementioned reason.
-I get obsessed the second I discover someone's emotionally unstable and need my 'support'. Or if they call me a whore/stupid bitch.
-I only really want what I can't have. See reason 1.
In summation. I just want to be madly in love, but I'm realistic enough to admit that I need to do some serious overhauling in the ol' brain department.
I hate you, brain. But I'ma work on you. 'Cause you're all I've fucking got.
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