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Divine Intervention (00000334)
0 comments
2.7/5 (61 Votes)
I am atheist, though I was forced to believe in God for years and I'm tired of faking it. Whoever wants to believe can go ahead, but I hate that my parents write my thoughts. I wish I could be somewhere people aren't make me wrong for doing some crime because it's my choice what I want to believe.

Posted on 26.03.2013, 05:29:48 CET
My girlfriend is too fat (00000304)
1 comments
2.6/5 (52 Votes)
I have a big problem; for a long time now I haven't found my girlfriend sexually attractive. Since we met many years ago, she has put on more and more weight. The girl of around 10 stone (140-ish pounds) is ancient history – nowadays she could reach a hefty 14 stone (200lbs). She is aware of it and constantly says she thinks she is too fat – but she doesn't see the implications. I do – and it is extreme. So much so that I now am never in the mood for sex, which for me is a very bad sign. Actually that isn't quite right: I do want to have sex. Just not with her. The problem is I look after my body and my appearance. I go to the gym, don't have an awful fashion sense and I am also pretty well off financially. In other words, I believe that I just need to not hide, and when I am completely honest for a moment (because this is Sinr after all), I deserve better. By that I don't mean skin-and-bone models who break just by looking at them, but just a well proportioned body. By the way, I don't care if women have a bit of a belly. The main thing is that if the overall view is good. Basically I need a woman who is sexy. Before you swing your "how can someone be so superficial" bat at me, or tell me that it is what's inside that counts – which by the way is complete bullshit – here is the explanation of why I haven't left her: she is the most wonderful human being that I have ever met. Never has anyone touched my heart as much as she does. Every day. And for that reason I can't and I don't want to go. And it is this conflict that is really tearing me apart. So I'm dancing on a minefield. And no, I am not interested in getting sex elsewhere. I have never cheated in my life and I am definitely not starting now.

Posted on 06.03.2013, 18:15:13 CET
Work hard, Party harder (00000300)
0 comments
2.7/5 (129 Votes)
I grew up getting molested by my family's friends. I feel awkward these days because I have to greet them every time I come face to face with them. How do you forgive seven years? Do you just forgive it so easily? How do I get over the fact that one of them was a friend of my brother's, who had a crush on my sister, and used me in the most isolated years of my life. How do I get over the fact that they threatened to touch my little sister if I didn't let them get away? We didn't have much food when I was younger, so they also gave food. I didn't eat any of it because I wanted my parents and siblings to get fed instead. I thought I had to grow up. I didn't talk much for those years of my life either. I didn't find it worth it when I had tried to convince them of what was going on at the time. The first time I confessed it happened I was kicked out the house for a day. Because I was 4 and it didn't seem right to leave a kid on the street. I gained a drinking problem over those years. These days, I regret it. I had a boyfriend when I was 15. I was a romantic and I thought I had found a shoulder to lean on. He cheated on me, and told me he was raped. My heart shattered for him. I waited weeks for him to confess the truth, but he never did. It took me 2 years to open my heart up again. I had another boyfriend at the age of 17 for about 6 months. The entire time we dated, I knew he was cheating on me. But I sat aside. I thought I could win his heart back by giving him my virginity. No big deal, right? I've already had worse done to me. I picked up drinking again around the time of our break up. I had a bartender friend during my high school years who supported my wanting to emotionally float away. I was raped a couple times last year. I still can't talk about it because I still sob uncontrollably over it. I drank more. It was my 1st semester. I turned 18 last year. I ended up in the hospital. Blacked out. Arrested. Confused. Broken. I have many sisters. One who looked at me from the hospital chair as I laid there, and said, "You were drinking too much." She smirked. The entire time I was getting molested, the guy was only looking at her. Forcing his evil onto me because she rejected him in a cruel manner. And it broke him. I can't stand the taste of alcohol anymore. It reminds me of why I drank in the first place. It reminds me of the stink of how broken I remain. I wish I could float back to Earth, but how do you live when when you close your eyes all you see is them. People tell me I'm beautiful. Pretty. A kind soul, But my eyes are hollowed to that. No one believes I'm sick 8 months out of the year.every year. I had another asthma attack last night. It took me about an hour and a half to find my inhaler. I freaked out. Panicked. My insurance wouldn't cover hospital bills... if I needed to stay there. Sometimes my body gives up on me. My leg turns to boiling blood and it overloads with pain. I used to be suicidal. I am suicidal again. But I don't want to take that way out. How can I live my dream as a writer if I so easily give up? My parents hate my writing. Hate my music. Hate my love for language and instruments. I'm broken. Not quite bitter, and I can't hate anyone. If you're still reading. Let me add on more. I had a 4.0 coming out of high school with no scholarships. I found that strange, and then I found out my mother had hidden the liberal arts colleges' mail. I received a lot of scholarships. The school they trapped me into going. I pay for myself. and now I have no way of paying for it. I'm getting kicked out not because I'm incompetent, but because I can't pay. I thought I could fix it myself. So I had a job. But my parents called in accusing them , in order to trap me back into unemployment. So I tried to apply for 200 jobs every week until I got responses. I didn't have a cell phone for a while.so my resume still had my home phone..which meant my parents could easily ignore the calls or hang up. I felt. unwanted and insufficient. These days, I can't eat for days. Or sleep for fear that I will die in my sleep. Or forget to breathe as I often do. When I close my eyes, I remember. I remember blackmail, I remember hospitals, I remember ....nothing, sometimes. Is it a sin to be alive when it hurts your soul to stay?

Posted on 05.03.2013, 14:54:38 CET
Tribulations in Love (00000193)
1 comments
2.5/5 (47 Votes)
As a shy young girl, I didn't date very often. So when this someone I liked for a while asked me out on Valentine's day, I, of course, said yes. We began dating long-distance, as I was attending a boarding school during the year and living in a different state for the rest of it. He was very kind at the beginning, and was always thoughtful and considerate when talking to me on the phone. We had been "dating" for at least two months before he revealed his other side to me: another personality he named "John". John was a downright jackass, and enjoyed the company of other women frequently, not to mention the terrible things he would say to me. My boyfriend would come back from his stints as "John" and apologize profusely, apologies which I, scared and concerned, would always accept. Keeping in mind that this was my first relationship, I soon became entirely involved in my boyfriend's swings. He asked me to keep him talking, to make sure that he would stay with me, just to add, he was terribly melodramatic, and didn't do anything he would regret. I was still upset from his first cheating expedition as John, and was consequentially very insecure. I kept close watch on him as best I could from so far away, but it was difficult, and soon felt more like a chore than anything else. Most times I felt more like a mother watching over a psychotic child than a girlfriend doing as her boyfriend asked. My self-confidence plummeted. and I spiraled into a deep internal depression, one which manifested itself in the form of biting cynicism and jealousy. The only person I could talk to was my roommate, my best friend. She became my one refuse from my boyfriend's nature, and I'm sad to say I relief on her far more heavily than I should have though she never complained. The months passed, and before I knew it, the jealousy brought about by my ever-worsening depression overtook my personality. I spent all of my time texting him, trying to keep his attention from wandering so that I wouldn't have to feel worse about myself when he came back talking about these other girls he'd messed around with, one of which was one of my dearest family members, my very close cousin. I lost myself so completely that I began inventing different little stories to keep him interested in me, and turned into a neurotic psycho- essentially, him. Soon after one of our very few visits face-to-face (in which I came back to myself enough to turn back into my once-shy, self-conscious self), he became "physically desperate", and began trying to pressure me into sending him sexual messages. Once he learned that I'd never physically pleasured myself in any way, he made it his mission to get me to text things of a sexual nature to him almost constantly, no matter how uncomfortable or disgusted I was with myself. Eventually, I just gave into the pressure, and that was all we talked about. After a long time dating, almost a whole year of hell, he finally started calling me on all of my lies, to my heartfelt relief. I tried to deny them, but honestly didn't even want to anymore. I had lost the shine of a first love, and now thoroughly hated him: the only reason we were still together was because I told myself that this must be normal, and it must be my fault I'd changed like that. He had set the pace for our relationship, and I, unknowing, had followed. I told myself that he was my boyfriend, and I should love him, so I made myself do it. Then I stopped playing along. He told me he "needed some space", and he "didn't know how he felt about me anymore". He wanted time to think, but wanted us to still be "dating" (or whatever it was we were doing at that point). I can honestly say, I have never felt freer than when I told him "Save it, I've decided for myself. I'm so sorry we ever got involved, this was all a big mistake. Thank you for your time, but this is very much not working out." Since then, I took some time to get on my own feet again, and completely banished the person I was then from my mind. The only thing that's left now is the intense, overpowering shame of all the things I've done, and a fear of dating. I don't ever want to become that jealous, lying person again, and so I've learned to close off from any potential dating situations. A whole year later, I'm a far better person, and have never felt better about myself, but I live in fear of getting involved with someone and becoming that again. I'd rather be alone than somebody other than me.

Posted on 18.11.2012, 19:03:09 CET


Toy Fire Trucks (00000191)
0 comments
2.8/5 (85 Votes)
When i was five, i visited my grandfather at his nursing home. We were best of friends. One day, I brought my mini fire trucks to play with. On that day, a women who was very old and fragile stepped on my fire truck, She then slipped on them and I started to laugh, she was then shipped to the hospital and was pronounced dead. This had haunted me all my life.

Posted on 16.11.2012, 16:36:49 CET
Place: Baltimore Maryland

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