LustingforNightmares

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2019-01-06 04:34:59 (UTC)

Masturbating is Fun: and Other Unnecessary Statements

"Don't Worry" by Love as Laughter [lovely band—sounds, at times, a bit like Modest Mouse or Ugly Casanova]

Well here they come shaking their tin can
They'll take your handouts, then they'll take your hands
Don't you worry baby you're the brand
You won't be sold by any quick scheme scam

Well you're a priceless gem
Until the end

Don't worry baby

January 6, 2018 Sunday 3:38 AM [Eastern Time]

In California it'd be almost 1 in the morning, and instead here is it almost 4 am and I woke up 12 hours ago after going to bed a bit before midnight on the 4th. I was exhausted. I think I slept maybe an hour between January 3rd and 4th, because we were on overnight flights and I don't sleep well on those. I passed out very briefly before the plane to Chicago landed and that was it. As a result, I was pretty useless and exhausted almost all of Friday. Momma took me shopping and we got some stuff pretty cheap at Forever 21. I got a jean jacket, a sweater, three blouses, and three pairs of pants for $75. So pretty good, considering that if we'd paid full price for all of it, it might've been probably more than $150. After I came home, I cleaned the "guest" room (the one with the door to the attic and the shelves full of my sister's film cameras and various lenses and a broken polaroid cam, etc.), I masturbated, and I fell asleep. When I masturbated, I came with the normal amount of intensity, which was a relief because I masturbated twice in the 10 days at my grandparents' house and every time I orgasmed it felt like a weak pulse. This time it was tighter, and longer. I think it's because I'm more comfortable here.

I masturbated a few minutes ago too. After my first orgasm I took a little break, and then I had three more in the span of a few minutes which is not the norm for me. Usually I go for two, and sometimes for one if the purpose of my masturbating is purely practical. Well, honestly, most of my masturbating is practical. It is meant to be a training (I think of most things as training tbh), and an opportunity to maintain mental sexual health. I spent a long time being mean to myself about sexual stuff and I need to Not be like that. I think I am doing a lot better in that respect, though. Even considering my thoughts lately, which have involved a lot of me looking at myself in the mirror critically.

We went to this new year's day party with grandparents (my grandma wanted to socialize), and this one woman at the party shook our hands. First me, then my sister. She looked my sister in the eye and said, "You are beautiful," and it felt like a slap in the face. To be fair, my sister IS beautiful: symmetrical heart-shaped face, tall, full lips, big eyes, good skin, etc. All that good stuff. She was even a pretty kid. My whole life people have been telling me with vague surprise that my sister is beautiful, and for the most part it hasn't offended me (in fact I've been proud cuz I like bragging about her), but this time it did because she said it after looking me in the face. I mean, I don't think her intention was to introduce a binary: she's pretty, you're ugly. That's how it feels, but I really think it just didn't occur to her as a feature of mine, whereas she looked at my sister and that was her thought. Knowing that makes me even sadder, though. Especially because on that day I had tried to look nice since I for once felt kind of pretty. But since then I haven't felt I am pretty.

I have always struggled quite a bit with my looks??? I remember while I was in the hospital I used to count my chews during meal times and I'd place restrictions on what I could eat because they had weighed me at some point and I did not like what I saw. I'm sure it started long before that. Honestly, the whole thing was only vaguely related to my looks. Yes, it bothered me a lot, but ultimately I knew it wasn't my weight that made me ugly—it was just everything about me, the combination of what I was. The weight thing was just a way for me to channel my anxiety in an inconspicuous way. Anyway, after I got out of the hospital I'd skip all the meals I could and I counted my calories to keep myself under 1200 a day. I don't remember if I exercised. At some point my sister told my parents she thought I was anorexic (this always hurt me a lot—that she said it to my parents and not me. I am not sure if this is a very fair stance to take, seeing as how I had literally tried to kill myself earlier that year). They relayed this information to me (they being my dad—with that awkward eyebrow-raise and his hands on his hips, like an angry toddler) and I got mad and said, "I'm not anorexic! FINE I'll go get quesadillas with you!" since that's all they wanted to do lmao.

By the end of that summer I lost 20 lbs. I went from 135 to 115. I think 110 at some point, but I hovered around 115 most of the time, which for my height (5'3"—although I think I was 5'2" at the time) is pretty normal. It's just the method around it that wasn't. Anyway when school started up I stopped doing that. I would restart on and off but with less vigour. I always lose weight in the summers because I have more time on my hands --> I get anxious since I have nowhere to channel my mental energy (only recently figured this out) --> I feel out of control and scared --> and exercise that anxiety by implementing arbitrary restrictions on my diet (over the summer I only ate between noon and 8 PM, for example).

My point is, I get sort of crazy about these things. Especially since boys also rarely express interest in me, that I am aware of, and when my friends compliment me it feels like they don't mean it (which it literally just a mental thing, I think—Alexis used to tell me I was hot, Adrian said I was hot, Marie has told me I am hot and that she wished I was gay, lmao).

Besides, on like.... a conscious level???.... I understand looks are very subjective. Alexis, for example, is not someone I'd find very attractive if I didn't know her. But I do, I think she's beautiful. She's not conventional-looking but she has great features anyways. I think it might be like that for me too. I mean, that one guy I made out at that party seemed fine with how I looked. Last year Moby thought I was cute enough.

Dude, I love my brain! I'm sure you can tell but—like, when have I ever been this happy? Or nice to myself? It's a combination of things, I think:

1) being away from home
2) going to therapy a lot.

I've already talked about the first point in depth tho. Father issues lmao. I mean this week with my dad has been fine but some minor triggers have occurred. Don't feel like talking about them right now but in short: bubbling inadequacy regarding my intelligence. Rarely a compliment from my dad; rarely an acknowledgement of my having done something good, and yet he doesn't hesitate to speak up in order to criticize. Sometimes I feel like there's nothing in me that has worth unless you're irrationally invested in me (ex: my friends).

Some stuff about my mom has made me sad. Mostly regarding my mom's relationship to my dad. My dad seriously must be autistic. He is willing to bring refugees into our home, he's willing to be an activist for various organizations, to be a leader, but when it comes to our family... He didn't even write an affidavit for my tia to be allowed into the country. Nicaragua's a shit place right now and my tia is hoping to come here and bring her daughters so they can live a safe and fruitful life. She's coming into the country legally, and is in a detention center currently. Mom needed to write an affidavit of support, but she was worried that since her english is not perfect that it might not be great, so she asked dad to help her and he said, "Vicki, are you saying you want me to write it FOR you?!?!?!" which is the kind of shit he pulled on his children too. One time as a kid I wanted him to make me a quesadilla and he yelled vague instructions from the other room—I guess not understanding that children are not self-sufficient, and if you want them to learn you should be more invested in the process of teaching. He does this under the claim that it's better that a kid learn than rely (which is fucked up in a lot of ways!!! but ok) but the real reason is he didn't actually want to do it. So he didn't.

So my mom ended up writing the affidavit herself and he gave it a cursory glance and signed it.

As if that's not bad enough, he goes around telling everyone about how our tia is in a detention center and how "we" had to write an affidavit of support ("Vicki and I wrote the affidavit...") and telling them about how my Tio Fran had to go into hiding for a bit after the government identified him as being involved in a protest valley (he was warned that they were going to go after him and. If you've seen the news you know they've already killed a lot of people). My dad has the audacity to spout this information like it matters to him, but it's only relevant as a story. When it comes to actually helping them, with his personal resources, he refuses. That's not even the beginning of the stuff he's done to my mom and her family, but it makes me sad to talk about so I try not to.

My dad is a cold man. Always has been. Emotions don't interest him. But I don't believe he does any of this with the intent to hurt. Actually, I know he loves us all very much. He's just fucking—there's something wrong with him.

So it's good I'm not home all of the time. It's good I'm going back to Brown in a week. I think if I stay too long I'll get the old sadness stuck up in me. I don't want that to happen: I haven't felt happy like this in a long time. I'm SO happy. Even when I'm sad and listless, like I was today, I feel—beneath it all—resilient???????? It was never that way before! Every minor tremor in the body in the brain had me reeling. Had all my thoughts crashing into each other, had old things crawling up from their creepy lil caves lol. Had me anxious and then numb and then crying without feeling it, and had me planning my death.

And for sure that will come back eventually. It is more a condition of my existence than it is a disease. But right now it's not here and for once I don't feel guilty that it's not in me. I don't feel like it didn't happen.

Ah, I just feel ok. I'm typing shirtless (actually I'm super cold). I have to pee. And I'm making plans.

This wasn't a good entry. None of them are. I'm all over the place. Reminder to self: this doesn't need to be good. "Good." Whatever.


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