Sunday, December 16, 2007

i post on CL a lot cos of teh w33d

After I got my heart broke bad the first and last time, I thought I could fuck my way out of it.
I would train myself to never care, to play as I had been played, to feel the power of using my body to make men do things.. I hurt a lot of people, I ruined my reputation, and I had to move away because my sluttiness had rendered me unboyfriendable.

I was labeled as Crazy Girl and a Bad Girl (although also the Smartest Girl in the City) and I knew I would die alone, surrounded by my cats, watching Buffy.

That led, of course, to my friends and I deciding we'd live in a "tat bro" retirement home. Old rockabilly guys and tiny wrinkled old women with their hair died fire engine red and black, covered in tattoos, sitting around on our porches listening to records.

I may never have another relationship like the one that broke me. So I learn to be honest. Most of the people I hang out with are pretty broken. We're all just waiting for time to pass, hoping something would happen.

-We could hang ourselves.
-It'd give us an erection.
-And all that follows.

I might well be the kind of person who goes through life alone, who never finds someone. That could end up being ok. I have good friends I know will always be around, and if I just have casual sex with other consenting, absent-hearted individuals, that's better than ever going through that again. It'd kill me.

I've been chronically ill since high school, although it didn't truly begin to destroy my life until a few years ago. Fist my hands and knees started to hurt. I figured it was carpal tunnel. Then all my joints started to ache, a hot, flaring flame licking away under my skin. There were invisible ants chewing away at the muscle tissue in my neck and shoulders. Nails were being driven into me. I'd lie awake at night throbbing, and then stumble about the next day, feeling like I'd been thru a sleepwalked rugby game. I was so tired. They did a lot of tests and gave me some pills, kept telling me to come back later. Finally they told me I had fibromyalgia, a disease I'd heard very little about.

After years of keeping up with research, I know more about it than the rheumatologist I saw at Cook County, who barely even knew that it was, in fact, a nerve disease and not one of muscle tissue.

I've learned a lot about the brain. I spend hours reading random articles on Wikipedia and learned that burning wood re-ionizes the air, which affects the release of serotonin in the brain. I wonder why ionizers aren't just given out to everyone during the winter. I wonder this because I spent about 90% of my time in bed or on the sofa. If I'm not there I am on my bike (just switched to fixie), flying through the streets, feeling like I've defeated this crush of gravity that threatens to flatten me. It's the only thing that makes me not want to die. Fuck using the brakes.

I just recently stopped being employable. I went to college in all good faith believing that if I studied hard and was smart I'd be able to find a good job.

But I was too crazy to teach after that, so I worked in food. I got to where I really loved it, but then my body gave out.

I had a desk job over the summer, but the stress made me crazy and I just walked out. I hate rich people. I am not a capitalist. I have been very poor for a very long time and all I want is to go to the damn dentist. I don't need a damn Jetta and brazilian cherry wood floors and stainless steel appliances to make me happy. I just want my mouth to stop hurting.

I can't get jobs any more. I can barely walk some days, and I have no way of knowing when those days will be. I look fine, I'm in great shape, but I'm in wretched amounts of pain and all I want to do is distract myself with a book or a dvd or the Nets. I consistently have Kervorkian fantasies.

I answer porn ads from here on Cl to make a living. I don't feel particularly ashamed of it. It's all I can get. I'm good at sex, I have a great body, I've been modeling naked for years, and emotionally it's about the same as taking a guy home from the bar. And the money can't be beat. I just wish I knew I could get enough of it to pay my rent every month. Still, it's definitely contributed to my being off dating. I just don't have the energy to be emotionally AND sexually involved with the same person, not on top of fucking for money.

The snow is lovely, and I am dying to go ride in it, but my stomach has decided to burn and rumble. Fun with IBS on top of all the other annoying things like feeling like I have a sunburn, or being unable to wear long sleeves indoors. Or itching all the time, even after slathering myself in pecan oil.

I have to get a good night's sleep, because tomorrow I am going to take all my anger out on a man who will pay me to do it.

Nice work if you can get it.

I have no clue what is happening in my life. Sometimes I really just want a nice boy to love me, to want to take care of me so I can go back to school and get a job I can actually do even if I'm in a damn wheelchair. Sometimes I just want to die. I'm so tired. I'm sleeping 12-14 hours a night and I just get more and more exhausted. I wish I could just be in a coma. Wake up when they have a stem cell cure. or nanobots. I can still get excited about those. YEAH! nanobots might fix me one day!!!

or else we just get through each day until the zombie invasion happens.
or the plague hits. or the floods start. or the robots take over. or the aliens attack. or we start to live in space.

see, there is stuff worth waiting for.

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