Sex with a Friend.

I had sex with a 19 y/o virgin.

He’s not a virgin anymore obviously. Which is kind of an awesome feeling. Like it’s the first time for me to be the first for someone else. So I got to be the lead. Kinda liked the idea, that’s why I went through with it. I’m 5 years older. You wouldn’t say it though looking at us both. I look high school still. Lol. Age never bothered me anyway, like the randomness even from the men I have had sex with in my life so far is so far apart you wouldn’t even think. Continueing though…

He doesn’t live near me at all and this was a one time “opportunity”… But honestly if I could do it with him again, I will. There’s just no emotional attachment which is awesome. Like friends with benefits. It’s good. Best part, he legit has the best dick I’ve seen or had thus far. Like I’ve seen and “played” with a few, and only had sex with less than what I “played” with, his is fucking perfect. Like straight, no left or right or any odd curve or hang, and thickness and length like “Fuck Me” perfect, picture perfect. Yeah sorry for getting so explicit about it, but still.

Best of all and funniest out of this whole situation thing, I’m his first at like everything. Literally everything. Sexting (incl pics and videos), even practically normal Pics, Kissing, Seeing Nude, Foreplay, Sex… Like damn… Something about it, makes it so fucking hot, I can’t help getting into it.

Also, this dude is a total geek, never interacted with girls really, and got to talk and meet him by chance, through his mother. How odd is that, right? And he is hot as fuck. Who’d think a guy will talk to a girl, from getting her number through his mother? I was very surprised to learn he is this innocent hot geek with a dirty mind and into the same interests as I am.

We also talk practically none stop, it’s a very odd friendship, but I like it. 

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Self-harm; 

My brother comes over today, and we chat about a healthy lifestyle. Eating healthy, working out… 

While he talks, he kinds of hang around the pull up bar in the cage. While he just barely lift his feet so he can hang, he cringe each time because he is sore from the previous day’s workout. 

As he continues talking about the muscle pain after workouts, he suddenly says “He doesn’t get those people who cuts themselves and…” (don’t know what else, there was something else)… “because they’re idiots! They should just spend a day with me working out, they will feel enough pain” as he said that it felt like he shot an arrow right through my heart. 

Because I am one of those people who cut. I also do workout, very hard. Which I love doing.

Where he even gets the idea that those two things have anything in common, I don’t even understand. But then again, he will never understand what self-harm is to people like me. Which is not even remotely on the same level of reasoning as gaining pain from working out.

I love pain from my workouts, because it feels to me that I’m doing it right, I’m working hard and towards a goal and the pain is there to let me know I am doing a good job. 

But self-harm? That does not come from a job well done. It is not something you reward yourself with. It’s probably the total opposite of all the above mentioned. 

Yes to people like me self-harm can also feel good, and it can even be addictive. As if you get a tiny adrenaline rush, even thinking deeply enough about doing it, you can feel it. 

But the level of “psychological awareness” between using self-harm as an escape and working out, cannot be compared. Because with working out, you love good pain for good results yes, but you’re not doing it on purpose to create the pain without the gain. Where self-harm is basically self-explanatory. Exactly what it is. Self-harm. You want to cause yourself that kind of pain for a reason, you want to feel the pain on purpose, you want that particular release, that painful pleasure, on purpose. 

I agree workout is a good tension relief method, clearing your head, it helps with depression, and for some people it is their way of coping. Some enjoy it to that level, and I agree, because I do to… But to me it is very different then when thoughts arise to self-harm, when that urge appears.

Because the situations to me, for both of those, are very different things…

To me in a way, self-harm, is more a way of releasing emotional pain that become too overwhelming to bear, like a pot that is boiling over, there is too much of a load to handle and you feel on the verge of losing your shit. You absolutely need a release… It prevents a full mental and emotional breakdown, which you turn into a physical pain. And I know, many people think it is ridiculous, and stupid. I mean, why hurt yourself intentionally? Most people will say it’s a cry for attention, and you know what. They aren’t always wrong as there really are some people who would use tactics like that for attention, but people like me… No. We don’t show it to anyone, for the world to see, we hide it. We aren’t proud of it. It’s our emotions, our fear, our tears, our anger, our reasoning, our everything… Right there in the open, exposed. We aren’t about to explain to anyone why, because it’s not just about one thing, it’s not just an easy explanation, and it is not just feeling sorry for ourselves. It really is just a way of coping. It is a coping mechanism. It is personal. It’s painful experiences. It is depression and it is life. And no self-harm does not necessarily mean we have a goal in mind to kill ourself.

It’s not natural, we all know it. Yes, mentally there might be something wrong for enjoying it, for doing it for the depressing reasons behind it… But it is not just the feeling of the physical pain that feels good about it, or the reason that triggered the thought or deed, but also the deed itself in the process. It’s like taking a deep breath in a way. But also, there are so much more to it, that it is hard to explain it, it’s hard to put it in words, because it is not “as simple as that” or as simple as people might think…

The worst of all about self-harm is, you want it so bad sometimes, you think about it so many times… For me to fight the thought is the hardest part, to not do it. To not mark my skin with scars. Now I’ve been lucky that no matter how deep I’ve cut, I’ve been healing exceptionally well. But, I’ve found that my most emotional reasons for cutting myself, has left marks. How ironic is that…

But once in my life it had been easy to hide. Now not so much and I sit with the thought most of the time that whenever I feel like doing it, that the fact of getting caught is too much effort to explain why I did it… So I then just don’t do it… But let me tell you a secret. I carry a blade (from a pencil sharpener) almost 90% of the time with me, as it is in my handbag. 

I have also taken a blade from work, those long super sharp box opener blades, the smaller ones, and I keep it in my room in my tampon bag, underneath my tampons. 

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Innocence.

There is something about an innocent person / look that turns me on so much. I have a fantasy of “playing” with either male / female (sexually) and rid them of that kind of innocence and then making them “mine”. 

That, or if they haven’t experienced certain things yet, I’d want to be the first for them to experience whatever it is they want to do, but haven’t done yet.

I also realised I have a thing for “shy” girls, even some guys as well, making them blush or shy intentionally. I like doing that. I will come right out and tell a guy or girl that they are cute or good-looking or pretty or whatever… I like seeing their reactions then. And also making them feel special and good about themselves too.

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Father’s Day Secret.

My Boyfriend does not know who his father is. His mother (a good person as she is, really) has never said anything about who he is in detail. Nothing but his name and where he is/ was from and that when he found out she was pregnant, he didn’t want to have anything to do with her anymore. (Asshole)

Anyway, for all these years that I have been with him, I have been dying to know who this person is, dying to know where he is, dying to know does he have a family and dying to know what he looks like and dying to know what his other kids look like if he has any other and most of all dying to know if he actually thinks about his first born child who he never wanted to know since he was conceived.

But also all these years, I have always questioned deep within if his mother has been speaking the truth for his entire life? First of all, does she really know who the father was, or was it by chance a one night stand? Should she know, how well did she know him? 

If she didn’t lie about that at least, my biggest concern is, is the name of his father the truth? Or is she witholding the real name?

I have several reasons why I am concerned with the name. A few years ago, it bothered me so much, that I started (tried) to do research, with the little bit of knowledge I have, and came across something rather fishy, but might as well mean nothing if she actually did tell the truth. And who am I to question a woman with good faith and a good hart? Right?

This is what I found though..

Absolutely nothing with the given name. Nothing. You’d think in this day and age the man would have some social media, Facebook at least. I mean my mother has Facebook, and old people have Facebook. So tell me that’s not odd? 

I found nothing that “suite” the info that I have, on the internet, with the given name. Not where he lives / or used to live. Okay fine I get that I can’t assume anything from that, but looking someone up with a full name and getting no listing with given name, that really is odd. I mean, I looked hard.

Second, one day, I was going through her phone, deeply… And came across some saved messages from an old friend of hers (a male friend of course) which was really quite intimate and I mean my heart was pounding as I was reading it while she was also in the room, because it was some real private stuff… But get this… That person even send through a photo of his daughter, that’s weird right? Why would she be interested in how his daughter looks at that time and whatnot? I don’t know, I think it is weird.

But this is even weirder, this person has the same surname as the given name of my boyfriends father. AND he also used to live in the same place at the same time, she mentioned where his father was at the time where she was… Coincidence? Maybe… But what about the fact that the messages were so very intimate and I mean sexually… 

This guy has Facebook, I went to have a look. He seems well off, but divorced. Eh he might look the part of his father, but I won’t go with it like that. A lot of people share looks even if they’re not related. Like a lot of people think me and a colleague are sisters. But what I saw on his Facebook as well was another thing that struck me as odd… His uh “hobby” I think… Yeah let’s just say hobby… And my boyfriend’s second name… “Matches” as in his second name means that of that guy’s hobby. 

So people what is your thoughts? Am I totally over thinking this? Is it really just coincidence? I don’t know… It used to bother me so much, but now I just kind of let it go because it is pointless asking… I don’t want to open Pandoras box.

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Regret.

They say regret always come too late, after the choice has been made. Well shit, of course it does. Lessons are learned that way. 

What do you think is the most regretful thought in your life, in the world?

I think it is that last moment when you kill yourself, but just before your last breath you don’t want to die anymore…

Yet again, if killing yourself was your last thought in life, it was that bad, won’t you be relieved to know it is your last breath?

But also, how will we know? Because telling a tale of how you wanted to kill yourself, but somehow still live because it went sideways, is not the same as actually dying for sure and not almost dying.

So practically no one will ever know, if that last breath was regretful or joy.

That, to me, is the scariest thought right there.

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Wishes do not come true.

Waiting all this time, getting my hopes up all these years… Thinking something would happen soon and then before I know it, another year has gone by… Still I am excited and waiting and imagining perfection… but nothing happens. Nothing ever happens, except my heart that’s breaking apart, piece by piece, disappearing into the void. Nothingness. No Hopes. No Dreams. Nothing to look forward too, only crushed fantasies.

Forget about it. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m over it. It’s done. There is no way that it will make me happy anymore. You’ve waited too long, and crushed my hopes too many times.

Really, I pretend that whenever people ask about it, that it doesn’t bother me. But really, it does. A lot. And it embarrasses me to act like we are waiting for the right time, and that there are just too many complications right now, but honestly, tell me? When is there ever a right time? When is there ever no complications? There will always be something, and always be an excuse as to why we do not commit, or actually, why you don’t want to commit.

I’m tired. I’m just tired of pretending to care that someday it will happen, but that day has passed so many times, and the years just keep on coming.

I am fed up. Shrugging it off all the time. Getting hurt all the time. Getting my hopes up and then end up being disappointed all the time, and you don’t care how it end up effecting my heart.

Well you know what, it broke me. And I am done. I don’t even smile anymore thinking about “Should it happen”. The idea of it doesn’t make me happy anymore. Like it used to.

And you know what… It is all I ever wished for.

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