One More Day

The life of a 19 year old mental case living on her own.

Category: writing

Daddy Issues?

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I love my dad. I tell him everything and we’ve gotten very close as I’ve gotten older. However, a comment one of my sexual partners once made to me caused me to reconsider my relationship with my dad. 

After telling him a story he said “Wow, it seems like I only hook up with girls with daddy issues…what does that say about me?” 

Daddy issues? 

So here’s the long story short:

My mom has stage IV breast cancer…the terminal kind. While she underwent chemotherapy my dad found one…or ten women to sleep with online. He ended up dating one. My mom found out and obviously flipped out so on top of her being extremely sick we had to deal with a nasty separation. 

Plus, I learned way too much about my dad’s sex life. Ew. 

My parents have never really “liked” each other, but they’ve always loved me. My dad wasn’t always super present, but when he was he made it count. There was some toxicity and other incidents of cheating but I always felt like that was between my mom and dad. 

Anyway, this guy- we’ll call him Eric- is a major dbag. He treats girls like shit, is way older that any girl he gets with, and is always drugged up. Eric says that all girls with these said “daddy issues” are the same. We’re a little promiscuous, a little freaky, and even less into a relationship than he is. We just want to please. 

Everyone who I actually have dated has ended up treating me horribly, and I feed off of it. My psychiatrist wants to put me in therapy solely because of my destructive relationship patterns. When trying to find the root of the issue, her sights were immediately set on my dad. 

Am I THAT girl with “daddy issues”? 

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It’s not my Fault I’m Stoned

The question “are you stoned?” arises frequently in my life. If it’s a friend the question morphs to “you look fucked up.” 

“Your pupils are HUUUUGE.” 

So my drug cocktail is strong, but I need it to get through the day. 

I can deal with huge pupils but going into a panic over nothing just doesn’t fly with me. 

Sometimes I wish people would just stop pointing things out. 

A Letter to a Big Fucking Douchebag

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Dear Travis,

Congratulations, you’ve won. You’ve successfully made two girls at the same time like you enough to really want to be in a relationship.

You’re hot, charming, and have a talent for deception….

but here are many reasons why FUCK YOU.

  1. I originally only wanted a casual sex relationship with you but you HAD to reel me in and make me like you.
  2. You constantly said “you’re all mine, right?”. YEAH DICK HEAD. I WAS ALL YOURS, BUT YOU SURE AS HELL WEREN’T ALL MINE.
  3. Your god damn obsession with body shots. Image
  4. Just your job in general.
  5. You added my mom on Facebook and TWO DAYS AGO told her that you and I would take a trip to visit her soon.
  6. You tell everyone about the time I threw up in your car.
  7. You told me how much you liked me, and I believed it.
  8. All the times we spent on my balcony. You made me accustomed to sitting on your lap and talking while you have a cigarette. I hate you for that. Image
  9. You left your smell on my bed.
  10. You left your bathing suit and a pair of underwear at my house.
  11. Your dick was so big that it hurt at first…but I’ll probably have no luck finding another one like it.
  12. You had me hoping that you would be MY boyfriend.
  13. Any time I doubted you, you asked me why I didn’t trust you and that you really liked me. Yeah, fuck you.
  14. You don’t let me get a word in when we’re in an argument
  15. When you don’t like something I say you ignore it.
  16. You’re immature, because you got into another relationship with someone after you called me LAST NIGHT and didn’t have the balls to tell me about it.
  17. She is gorgeous and seems really nice. You don’t deserve her.
  18. We seemed so perfect together.
  19. All my friends told me so.
  20. Your obsession with selfies and the fact that I caught you in my bathroom doing this Image
  21. Your perfect, soft kisses.
  22. The way you made it seem like I was special and you wanted to spend time with me.
  23. The number of times you lied to my face. “You’re the only one i’ve had any sexual contact with or interest in since I started hanging out with you.” Yeah right.
  24. You have a girlfriend, and it’s not me.
  25. All your promises/lies.
  26. The fact that you don’t even seem like you feel bad about hurting me so much.
  27. The sadness makes me want drugs and tequila.
  28. You made my life so much happier…
  29. ..and now this is what I look like. Image

Oops

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So I got in a car accident today…

I had never felt the real power of a car until I was hitting the breaks and felt the impact upon hitting the other car. 

I had never been in an accident before, thank god. As far as car accidents go, I got extremely lucky. Car accidents kill!

Thanking my lucky stars today….even though I’ve created a huge financial issue, I’m alive. 

Gold Digging

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South Beach, Miami is a haven for rich men and hot women…a gold digger’s paradise. Despite being 19 I go to South Beach clubs every now and then. Liv, Mansion, Bamboo, and even Rokbar are some fun ones. 

Last time I went to South Beach I met a guy who seemed to have unlimited funds. He bought my friends and I a round of drinks (if you’ve ever been to South Beach, you know that just one drink can cost you around $30). 

He asked for my number and I agreed, simply because he had put down so much money just to impress me. He continuously has asked me on dates to lavish places but I have always made up an excuse as to why that night was no good. 

Recently, he told me he was in New York and wanted me to come “hang out.” To me, an impromptu trip to New York to see someone I hardly know seemed ridiculous. 

He asked me if I had ever heard of The Plaza hotel. Hello, Eloise??? Of course I have heard of The Plaza! Staying there is a dream of mine and he’s in the Gatsby Suite. He told me he would fly me to New York and that I could stay with him. 

As a non-multi-millionaire, I had to work. As a non-idiot, I wasn’t about to go stay in a hotel with a stranger. He could like, kill me or something. However, The Plaza in the heart of New York City would be so amazing!

He then said when he came back to Miami and take me on dates with a limo service so that we could drink and neither of us would have to drive. I guess this guy has never heard of a cab. 

Then, if I felt comfortable with him he would take me to Los Angeles the next week. 

He said he’s thought I was very beautiful since the day he met me and that he wants to spend time with me. Maybe he’s so wealthy that such extravagant purchases for women are commonplace for him.

 Having a sugar daddy has definitely crossed my mind from time to time. Now that it’s in my lap, I feel a bit weird about it. It almost seems dirty to use someone in such a way, especially if he expects sex in return.

I’ve never had the opportunity to travel and have only been to three states in my entire life. Money has always been an issue. Now, this guy swoops in and wants to transform me into a globe trotter. 

Can this be worth it? 

Am I just a Character?

Sometimes when I’m alone, I find myself thinking in terms of what I say or think…

For example, “I wonder what people would think if they were watching, she thought.” 

It makes me wonder whether it is I who am thinking these things, or a different character inside my soul. Am I real, or am I just a character to be written about, just waiting for an author? 

If this is the case, I hope I am one of the dynamic characters in the story. 

Said the Lover to the Fighter

Please look at me. Why don’t you respond to my touch anymore? Why have you grown so cold? I’m not afraid. Your fist might put a hole in the wall inches from my head but I know you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt me. Put me in a ditch and cover me with dirt. I’ll dig myself out and come back; hoping you have calmed down and will accept my touch, or at least look me in the eye.

Look at me. Are you afraid to lose the one sided fight? I’d like to think that if you would just look at me, that the fight would disappear and there would only be love.

But fighters are more resilient than lovers. If a fighter is broken he will heal; if a lover is broken he can be patched up, but never truly the same.

I guess the fighter wins the fight by default, because he is the only one fighting.

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Every girl and her friends compare themselves to Sex and the City women, and respectively match each friend to a certain character. I’ve come to realize that I’ve been matched to every single character throughout my life. When I was young at at the age where none of us really knew about the person we […]

Revenge Sex

Is it wrong? 

Is it sick to think about how someone who hurt you would feel if they watched you having sex with a new person, and having it excite you? 

After a while of meaningful sex, I think that meaningless sex helps me get over a person I liked, or even just something they did if I plan to continue seeing them. It’s almost like a big “fuck you” to that person…especially when you do things to the new guy that you know he liked. 

I’ve never cheated on a boyfriend, so I’m not talking about cheating on a boyfriend if he does you wrong. I’m talking about when you really like someone, and they seem to really like you too but sometimes their actions aren’t consistent. 

What do you think? When fighting fire with fire, does everyone get burned? 

 

New blog; clean slate.

I’ve been blogging for quite a while now and looking through my old blog, the posts began to irritate me. Blogging is a great release for me, so here goes. 

For my first post, I needed a little inspiration so I went to WordPress for help. It asked me about the most precious thing I’ve ever lost. I guess to answer this question, I’ll tell the story of how I lost my virginity. 

I was 15 and talking to this guy who was 19. We would talk on the phone for hours upon hours every night, text all day, and see each other whenever we could. This was during my rebellious stage, so we would smoke and drink together all the time. 

One day he invited me to a party, to which I excitedly agreed. When I walked into the party his hand was in one of my hands and alcohol was in the other. I had taken a Xanax bar prior to the party, and anyone who has experience with bars and alcohol knows that the combination is a blackout waiting to happen. Throughout the course of the party, we smoked weed, drank, mingled with his friends from school, and made out on the couch a little.  

Being 15, I had a curfew and once the time came I asked him to take me home. He took me by the hand and through a door. At my level of obliteration, I thought he was taking me to the front door to get to his car. Before I knew it I was laying down on a dark red bed and he was going down on me. I heard knocks on the door from the owner of the house, but I was too fucked up to feel guilty about getting down on his parent’s bed. 

The next thing I knew he was inside of me. 

I remember saying stop; that I wasn’t ready. My memory was blurred and I don’t even remember feeling anything. After it was over he took me home, and everything went back to normal. I tried to deny that anything was wrong with what had happened, so I continued talking to him and having sex with him. 

He started to talk about eventually having a relationship with me. That was when I really started to investigate who he really was. I wasn’t friends with him on any websites, and he swore that he just didn’t have a Facebook. One day I logged out of my Facebook, looked him up, and found him immediately. Looking through his profile, I found that he was in a long-term relationship. She was all over his Facebook, and I spent about an hour reading through their recent public exchanges of “I love you”, hoping I would find a clue that it was all a big joke. 

That was when my investigation skills were really put to use. She had a website through which people could anonymously ask her questions, and someone confessed to seeing her boyfriend with a small girl with dark brown hair and blue eyes: me. I wondered how none of his friends at the party mentioned anything. I felt violated and betrayed by everyone. 

I waited a few days to mention anything. I wanted to see if he would be able to sense that I knew his secret. He never did. The next time he mentioned seeing me again, I asked “how would your girlfriend feel about that?” He took a while to respond, and when he finally did he said “…how did you find out?” He begged me not to tell her. That was when I realized that I was a second choice; a piece of trash that could be easily thrown out. 

He ended up telling her… and of course she put all of the blame on me. I was a “slut” and a “whore”, while he was trying to be sweet and fix their relationship. 

I guess that set the tone for the rest of my sex life. Sigh.