Wednesday 25 February 2015

The sun is out but I'm not there

I don't know what to write. I can barely put a sentence together. I'm scared everytime I post on here it's unread or just laughed at. I mean who writes likw that? Does she know how uninteresting she is? Does she thing she deserves to do this? Don't tell me she things she's good enough to breath. To eat. To live.

One day I don't want to be alone and hurting and crying myself through a day. One day I want people to see I'm hurting. One day I want someone to realise the fact I wasn't late for work took so much out of me, I don't leave my bed any other day. Maybe that I need telling when I've done something right because I feel everything I do is wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong.

I'm sorry. I don't know what to out. I don't know how to do this and how to live. I don't know and I'm sorry.

Thursday 12 February 2015

How does one "Sex"

Long time no blog. It feels good to have my computer keys at my fingertips again and not be making small updates by phone. It just didn't feel the same. This isn't quite right still considering my desk is broken so I'm shoved into a tight space, they keyboard and mouse practically on top of each other.

Today's blog is about sex. It's a topic some would rather not speak about and others have no problem. I struggle talking about this openly. I struggle having sex. Getting interment is hard for me. I don't like being seen naked and since was a child hated being touched. It's been a growing issue with my partner as he as a high sex drive and would do it multiple times a day if he had his way. It makes me feel like a failure, completely pathetic. Even when we get to a point where we could have sex I let him down.

Don't get me wrong, I love my partner and think he is sexy. I don't have any problems doing things to him. The problem arises when he wants to touch me. I'd rather hide under layers of jumpers and cry in a corner. When we first met we couldn't get off each other which probably confuses him more. I go through periods where I'll fuck anything and that's how I was when I met him. I felt out of control and wild. My life was falling apart and I didn't know who I was or what I wanted. My mind was set on self destruct.

At that point I was overdosing almost daily and the effects where being bed ridden for days. Some times I remember fainting in the middle of my kitchen and being there for hours till someone checked up on me (I lived in the YMCA then). The days after overdosing would be a black blur, moving shakily out of bed to get a drink for my parched mouth and only managing to weakly drop the glass and smash it before passing out again. I didn't have the strength to lift a kettle and spend days throwing up my stomach bile before I started the cycle again. Booze, sex and drugs. Anyone who could I could no matter the effect then I'd hate myself and and try escape from my life. From who I was.

I still don't know who I am but I don't seek it from pills and an empty bottle of vodka.

Sex is something I'm not equipped to come with yet. Whether it's from bad past experience I hate to even mention or my frantic lust a few years ago or my low low body image. Who knows. What i do know is medically no one cares. People only hate me for it.

Sunday 1 February 2015

Time is precious

It's already February. I don't quite believe it, a twelfth of the year gone. I have no savings (that little house I want is a long long way away) and my attempted to eat more healthily have been overrun with more bad for than good.

My partner has had his bike stolen and lost his job and is spending all his time at mine. As I like to write alone this makes it hard to post. It's not like this is a secret, he knows I have a blog, I just like to keep my thought secret from anyone who knows me. Do you know what I mean?

I'll post a real update when I get the time.

Olivia