It has nothing to do with being afraid of the world..it's a existential crisis and threat ..it's death and destruction and resurrection of the whole thing.
i fucked cubana lust while i was in los Angeles
I blew a guy and let him give me a rimjob when I was 12.
Working at Starbucks helped me on my coffee addiction. I'm the type of person who will hate the food if I keep working with them everyday of my life (e.g. if I keep cooking lasagna all the time, then I'll hate lasagna). Now I smell the coffee everyday of my life and I can't bear to drink one anymore.
In my culture, at my age, I'm expected to get married and have a baby. One time on my sister's birthday, my auntie told me, I Look good with a baby. I'm like, "what the hell am I suppose to do with a baby?!!? Is it a fashion trend now?!?!"
All of my life I have felt like I was slightly...just slightly different than other kids. I don't mean that in a cool, interesting way. I mean, I would go days without talking to anyone. I would yell at people who touched me. I laughed uncontrollably when my mom cried. I used to, and still do, masturbate to everyday noises that annoy me such as gum popping and pencil tapping. Not because I actually wanted to, but because I needed to. It wasn't a choice. I would become so agonizingly aroused that I physically had to masturbate. My memories of my freshman and sophomore year of high school consist mostly of me leaving to go to the bathroom, and then masturbating to the sounds that irritated me in the toilet. I would do it every day. Sometimes multiple times a day. Again, I really couldn't stop myself. It was too painful to not masturbate. Sometimes I would cry because I didn't understand why I was like this. Why my body reacted this way to the sounds that bothered me. But I don't care why I'm like this anymore. I'd shake and twitch in agony over weird things that, to me, were the most unbearable things in the world. Such as my mom playing with her hair, my dad yawning, students tapping their pencils on the desk, the sound of people chewing their gum. I could not bear these things and I didn't know why. I used to imagine murdering people who did these things. Really imagined it. Every detail about it. How it would feel to bash their heads with a rock, the sounds they would make, the smell of their blood, the way their body would hit the ground. I used to go to the park every single night, by myself, and swing on the swings for at least three hours, listening to music and being somewhere else inside my head, imaging myself being abused and tortured in front of my classmates because that's what I felt like I deserved for being so weird. I'd obsessed over students in my class. Stalk them online. Think about them consistently, and then never say a single word to them. I would beat myself up for weeks and cringe if I even made eye contact with the people I obsessed over. I don't know. I know that I'm not normal. I tried to tell myself that that was okay, but it isn't. I am not okay.
I had a dream last night that I went to see my ex boyfriend to see if we could still be friends. For some reason he was staying at my grandma's house. He kept making sexual jokes I was uncomfortable with. Once I realized that's what he was doing, I said "that's it", grabbed my stuff, and left. My mom was there. I told her it was weird he was sleeping across the hall and he kept making dirty jokes. She said "I'm gonna beat his ass" and went in the house. I tried to stop her but I lost her. So I told my grandma that Mom wanted to talk to her. Shit hit the fan and then a Twilight Zone style man showed up with a newspaper headline saying 5 people were killed during that confrontation. I don't know who killed who but it scared me so much I made myself wake up.