I hate my fucking life
I graduated and now cant get a job!!!
what the f was the point.
My boyfriend whom I loved dumped me and made me have an abortion in the same week.
I haven’t had a boyfriend since and its been years
I keep on fancying men then I find out they are married with kids or living with a woman.
I am living in a house that the repairs never happen so now the place stinks of rotting timber and mould, and the people that own it have just bought a £60k classic car and drive it around –
I want to get pregnant but cant find a man and today I got a letter back from a fertility clinic I contacted saying they cant help.
What is going on!!!!!!
It cannot get any worse.
I feel like I am going to die an old spinster with noone and broke – some would say join the real world I say if I had a poor education and was a dog fine but I’m neither….
Facts: 23/Female 6’3″/145 Auburn hair, brown eyes, great skin, big lips, and a perfect smile.
My Reality: Everywhere I go people stop and stare, point and whisper, laugh when I walk by, smirk when I wear heels, come up to me and tell me how tall I am (like I don’t know!), basically make me feel like I should be in the circus!! Why do people do that.. make me feel ugly and insecure?? Why is being tall a bad thing?Better yet, why can’t a woman with my height where heels without everyone making me feel like I am a fucking joke??
Seriously, I just can’t wrap my head around it anymore.. and sadly, its working, keeping me staying inside day after day, avoiding big groups of people, alienating myself from those around me, wearing big baggy clothing so people cant see the real me… i wish someone could see me right now and my tears of rejection.
Eu amo a Mia, amo a Beatriz e amo a Marlene. 3 mulheres, o que há em comum? O facto de todas elas terem passado por uma tragédia ou várias na vida delas. O facto de todas elas serem lindas, o facto de sem saber como acabo sempre por ser essas pessoas que me atraem e que acabo por me apaixonar. Pelo facto de ama-las e sentir o que elas sentiram ao longo da vida delas. Não sei porquê mas todas as pessoas que me atraem no inicio e que mais tarde acabo por as conhecer são uma Bea, Mia e Marlene. Porquê pergunto-me eu? Porquê? Porque acabo sempre por amar esse tipo de pessoas? Será a luxuria a chamar por mim? Se assim fosse porque é que o que eu sinto por elas é mais do que isso? Amo-as tanto. E estou completamente na merda. Porque a minha vida pára por causa disso. Por mais voltas que tento dar. Por mais tentativas que faço para seguir em frente. Por mais iniciativas que invento e tento fazer para esquecer tudo o resto. Tudo acaba por correr mal. Estou farto, de viver nessa merda de mundo, onde o individualismo reina, onde cada está por si, onde ninguém é capaz de olhar para o outro e ajuda-lo. Odeio isso tudo. Ao ponto a que chegamos. Sei que estou vivo mas sinto que tudo morreu ao tempo. As pessoas estão mortas por dentro, e como eu as entendo. A Mia e a Bea foram pessoas que tudo fiz para dar vida…e falhei. A Marlene é mais outra. Porque raio estou a apaixonar me de novo, por alguém que de certeza vai terminar da mesma forma que terminou com as outras duas.
[Translation: Portuguese » English]
I love Mia, Marlene and Beatriz. 3 women, which is in common? The fact that they all have gone through a tragedy or several of them in life. The fact that all of them are beautiful, the fact that I do not know how to always be those people that attract me and for me that I love. The fact that love them and feel what they felt over the life of them. I do not know why but all the people that attract me in the beginning and that later in the know are just a Bea, Mia and Marlene. I wonder why I? Why? Because I always loved by such people? Is luxuria calling for me? If that was why I feel it is more than that? I love them both. And I’m completely in the shit. Because my life stops because of it. For more laps I try to give. It attempts to do more to move on. For more initiatives that invention and try to do to forget everything else. Everything ends up wrong. I’m tired of living in that kind of world, where individualism reigns, where each is for you, where nobody is able to look the other and help him. I hate it. When we got the point. I know that I’m alive but I feel that all the dead time. People are dead inside, and I will understand. The Mia and Bea were people who did everything to give life … and failed. The Marlene is another. Why the hell am I love me again, by someone who certainly will end the same way that ended with the other two.
Do you see them? Do you see how they hurt? The vestiges of pain and regret? As clear as day they stripe my arm. The scars leave behind a memory…a torturous memory…
I was addicted to it. It wasn’t the pain, it wasn’t sting, it was satisfaction of retribution…
I would cut deep into my flesh and let the blood drip and drip on the ground…I’d paint the ground in pools of blood…my blood…
I’d keep a blade close…it was my friend…I was my enemy…
No one knows…but they all see, clearly can they peer…they don’t know my story…but they see the scars…of pain,of suffering,of life…
They murmur and judge amongst themselves…I wonder if they ever felt something so…so…deep…that tears wouldn’t suffice…do they know the meaning of pain?
But who really knows my pain? Is there someone? Anyone? Come to me, so that I might be healed.
So I can be……free.
I was born with a severely disfigured face. i am also mentally retarded. because of this i can be violent and dangerous sometimes, and because my face is so ghoulish looking it can be very scary for people. so my mom and brothers chained me to a wall in the basement where i just watched TV all day and lived on a diet of bar food and candy bars.
One day a bunch of kids from the neighborhood found me and helped me escape. we had a long adventure together, during which i had to pick sides against my own family who turned out to be totally evil selfish bastards, and in the end we were rich, famous, and still alive. well me and chunk eventually shacked up together and from time to time he will give me blowjobs and/or let me fuck him. i think he just feels sorry for me because even though im free to do whatever i want i still just sit in our basement and watch TV all day (and surf da net, obviously).
Anyways, i just wish god hadn’t made me be born a ghoul and gay and not even have a shot at getting into heaven when i die. it is so depressing that it makes me want to take my life, but i would only end up in a worse situation (hell). so i guess i just have to be happy to be alive and try to stay alive as long as i can. the thing is that when those kids “rescued” me from my family my whole world got flipped turned upside down. And I’d like to take a minute
Just sit right there
I’ll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air.
I’m depressed……
2 months ago i hired a hooker because i felt lonely. My girlfriend is on another country and we haven’t seen each other for at least 8 months. I didn’t want to get emotionally involved with anyone so i decided to pay a prostitute just to let my inner beast loose.
The day i fucked this slut she felt abnormally attached to me, we exchange numbers and became friends.
One day we talked over the phone and decided to meet to have some drinks and talk. That evening we had sex again and spent the whole night together. Of course without any money involved.
We have been talking periodically over the phone, I know I’m not supposed to fell for a whore, i don’t want to have any feelings for this girl but my fucking brain is giving me a hard time.
The past Saturday we talked and agree to see each other that same night… when i called her she was with a “costumer” and i felt really bad….she told me to call her one hour later…..so i did but she never picked up the phone or return my calls.
Today is Tuesday and i decided to give her a call to check if she was alright…. she didn’t picked up again….i checked online on her website to see if something was wrong and her pictures were gone and when i tried to book her again they pimp told me that she was out of town. I call her from another cell phone and surprisingly she picked up….i asked her what was wrong….and she told me that her mom was in town and that she is not going to work anymore. I ask her whether i could call her and she say no…i will call u…
She only work as a hooker for less than 3 months…or at least that is what i know.
I got feelings for this girl….i know i can do much better…..i have a lot of female friends that i could fuck anytime i want…..i tried not to get involved with anyone but i ended up so much worse.
I’m not going to call her again, but i know i will take some time to recover from this. My girlfriend is coming next month and i don’t feel the same way about her anymore…..after meeting this girl the chemistry on my brain changed and i cant do anything about it.
Right now I feel like killing myself. Fucking depression. Why the FUCK won’t you leave me alone for ONCE in my GODDAMNED LIFE?! WHEN will I get my control back?
I know I can’t help it, it’s just the way I am. There’s nothing I can do about it. But it’s been too long. There’s nothing I should be upset about right now. My life is fine. It’s just me. I can’t let me be happy. I’m getting progressively worse.
My worst punishment imaginable. Being forced to watch myself crumble from within. Dying in my own mind. This is the monster that I live with, every single day. I can’t explain it to anyone. The mention of depression makes them shy away like I’m contageous. I can’t explain how it affects me. How it controls me. How i CANT STOP IT.
The worst thing is that I know I will wake up in about a week and all of this will have gone away. I will wake up feeling just fine and dandy. And then all I can do is wait. Wait for the next episode. Wait for a few months time where something ticks me off and sends me down this familiar spiral.
I’m frightened, and terrified and there’s nothing I can do.
I get phantom-pains in my arm from where I used to cut myself over a year and a half ago. I’m just numb there. Except occasionally, when I – or someone else- touches my arm, I remember the pain again. Or at least my body remembers the pain again. I will never cut again, but it hurts more to have the constant reminder that I was once unhappy, so visual on my skin. I hate what I did to myself.
I love my boyfriend even more for being understanding of it. He knows, athough we have never really talked about it. He’s said a thousand times that he loves me for who I am, and not for what I used to do to myself. I want to tell him how much I owe my life to him. But when he reaches over and touches my arm – not even realizing- accidentally – it makes me uncomfortable and I hate myself for it. He once touched my arm during sex, and I had to pull away.
What I tried to heal on the inside, by damaging myself on the outside, just became deeper and more painful. I have ended up damaging myself on the inside and out.