My therapist says that deep down I miss having people in my life. While true I think it's too much trouble trying to make things good with everyone around me.
It annoys me when my boyfriend asks me to go out and get something for him when I could've gotten it the day before while I was already out if he asked. Or when he could easily get it himself. If I'm going out anyway, like to work or grocery shop, just tell me anything you need that we have money for and I'll get it in one trip. Unless it's one of those days where traffic is really stressful, I don't care. I'd rather get it in one go than get some stuff and have to go back out the next day for one thing. Like the other day I was at the grocery store and asked if he wanted any pop. He gets caffeine headaches without it. He said no, didn't want any. Then the next day he asks me to get him some pop. Made me so annoyed, why didn't you say so yesterday?! We didnt get more money between now and then, and you know how you are with a caffeine headache. He got it himself.
I’m going through something... and I feel so alone. My friends... they’re leaving me behind. I can’t catch up to them anymore. If I’m ever mentioned, it’s to pick on my mistakes. I hate how things have become now. I hate how tense everything is. I don’t trust any of my friends now, since they seem to be anything but trustworthy. I can only depend on my family but they wouldn’t understand this... I’m tired. So, so tired.
I kind of had a mental breakdown at my boyfriend's house yesterday. It was the middle of the night and we were in his bed when he asked me about the scratch marks on my hips. He’d asked me about them before several months ago, when he first saw them, and I was too scared to talk about it then. So I told him to ask me another day, and I guess that day was last night. But I froze when he brought it up, the same way I did when he asked me about it for the very first time. He said he needed to know. When I didn’t say anything, he said “Did your mother’s friend do this to you? She did, didn’t she?” and I instantly started hardcore dissociating, like my sense of reality was beginning to slip. He knew. I don’t know how. I never told him. But he knew it was her who was responsible for the scratches on me. He only met my mom’s friend once, but he must’ve seen her nails. She always, since the day I met her up until the last time I saw her, had these horrible, sharp, artificial nails. And yeah, she used to hurt me with them. The memory of what happened next is kind of a blur. I just remember panicking so much that I went numb. I remember getting off his lap, leaving the room, staggering down the stairs, and ending up in the woods behind my boyfriend's house, somehow. I remember him coming out after me, asking me where I was going, telling me to come back. I didn't know what I was doing or how I'd gotten out there. I kind of just wanted to run away as fast as I could because I was so terrified of the conversation that was about to happen, but I didn’t run. So he walked me back to the benches on his back porch, sat me down, and asked me what was wrong. All I was able to tell him was: they used to be worse. The scratches on my hips—they didn't always look like the thin white lines they are today. They used to look like they'd been put there by an animal. They used to feel like it, too. Back then, I was the only boy in my P.E class who changed clothes in the bathroom stalls instead of out in the locker room with everyone else, and I was the only boy in my neighborhood who wore a t-shirt whenever my parents made me to go to the pool. And it was because of this. I couldn’t look at the scratches on my hips without thinking back to how I got them, when she was pinning me down, sinking her horrible, horrible nails into my sides and… well, I’m not gonna say what she did next, but it was awful. I couldn’t look at my own body without wincing. I told him all of this. I told him everything. All my secrets, all the details, all the things I’d been terrified to tell him, it all just spilled out of me. I didn’t even realize I was crying until he wiped my eyes and nose for me. I told him I’m sorry he has to see me like this, and that I hate that I have to burden him with my trauma. Then he pulled me closer to him and quite literally held me until I stopped crying, and he said he never ever wants me to be afraid of talking about these things with him, because nothing I could possibly tell him will make him stop loving me, and that even if he can’t always understand my pain he’s always going to listen to me. He also said "I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault, okay? It's not your that fault this happened to you, and it's not your fault that you couldn't stop her." And that was the first time anyone in real life ever said that to me. I had no idea how badly I needed to hear that. It was two in the morning when we finally went back to bed, and I couldn’t stop looking at his sleeping face and wondering why I was ever so afraid to tell him what happened to me. He’s such a wonderful guy. I had no reason at all to be so worried. But still, it feels strange, knowing that he knows everything now. It feels strange knowing that there’s no more secrets I need to keep from him. I’m not gonna pretend like I’m not embarrassed after I told him all of that, but I’m glad he knows and at least that's all out of the way now.
Some women get so upset just becasue you're not jumping through hoops for her. They put their own pussy on a pedestal. Getting mad for not being able to control your life with her pussy. To me it's kind of hilarious actually and I enjoy letting these women know I'm not that much desperate for it.
I always wonder if the reason I have not had much luck in the dating department is because I'm not exactly the most feminine woman around. I mean, I enjoy being a "girly-girl" from time to time, but very rarely. Mostly, I'm very tomboyish and it makes me think that it might unsettle some people sometimes (not just men, but people in general). Who knows. Maybe I'm just over-thinking it.
I know I shouldn't worry about what people think of me, but... Are there still men who like "traditionally" feminine women? Because I'm pretty much girly-girl. I worry that I come off as dumb or impractical because I like cute things and like to wear frilly clothes now and then. And I'm embarrassingly emotional.
why do all the girls break up with me because we have no future even though im "perfect" and "amazing" and "anyone would be lucky to have me"
My boyfriend and I love each other and are a really good match with similar interests and opinions and so on. But there's one thing where we are completely different; and that's vacations. My boyfriend loves summer vacations in tropical countries, lying on the beach all day in a nice hotel. I despise this kind of holiday so much. I am actually allergic to the sun - I get painful rashes after five minutes in direct tropical sunlight, my body always goes crazy from the heat (diarrhea, constant dizziness), I attract mosquitoes in an abnormal manner, and after coming back from such a trip I always feel like I should've rather gone to work than doing this shit. What I like are winter or autumn vacations in the mountains. I love this so much that I sometimes literally cry when I see people posting pictures of their mountain vacations. But my boyfriend hates them. He's afraid of heights, so every minute on top of a mountain is torture for him. He hates the cold. He simply refuses to go on a vacation like that with me. And I would call him an asshole for that, if I didn't know how bad I feel about HIS vacations. I just don't know if we can spend a life together if the only choice is between "one person always absolutely hates the time there so the other one can't really enjoy it either" or "we go on no vacation at all and slowly start to hate each other for that" and "we compromise and in the end no one enjoyed the trip really". (And no, going alone or with other people isn't an option.)
Some people are just too old to play games. Why?