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There are so many things I want to give up.

My occupation, my mind, my abilities to see, hear and feel, my persistence to crawl further after every train that struck me again and again, my unbearable curiosity to see what comes next…

If I could just give it all up for good, I would be finally free.

Freed from the leash of the everlasting ‘What if?’ question.

But as it is now…I have to go on living I guess….

 

Hello!

imag0328 I may or may not be a little drunk atm.

But it’s fine for the time being I guess.  I did not attend any university seminars today and I kinda feel bad about it…but I just couldn’t leave my flat today. What is really strange because I don’t feel too shitty and could almost describe my mood as pretty okay. But leaving the house was impossible.

Well then…it happens, I guess.

At the moment old and buried things crawl back into my life and….I don’t really mind it, but it shows me how much time I wasted doing nothing and feeling sorry for myself instead of using it to do things.

I had such wonderful hobbies and threw them all away just because of the feeling not being good enough in them…Can you imagine? Not being good enough at HOBBIES! Something that should be fun and relaxing and inspirational.
And what I did in the past when I had the feeling of not being good enough was giving it up altogether.

Smart thing to do, right?

RIGHT?

Well, fuck me….I was such a stupid and pathetic piece of shit.

Am I any different right now?

But now it all comes back to me and I am happy about it!
Maybe it is a second chance

Maybe it is a chance at all to try things all over again. Things I am still passionate about, things I still love.

Am I crying right now?
Maybe

Am I kinda happy?
Maybe?

 

If I bang my head hard enough against a wall, will I finally be at peace?

Next to a very strong urge to end my life I was thinking a lot about my place in this society in the past weeks.

I honestly don’t want to work.
What does not mean that I want to be someone on benefits or the like, just to clarify it.

This solely means that I don’t want to contribute to this societal structure with my hard-earned money. Or even worse – work just to be able to pay into this hostile structure.

And I don’t want to act on a daily basis anymore…a smile here, a “how are you doooooing?” there…I despise it!
I am not a person who likes to be surrounded by people, I don’t like talking and even more I don’t like playing along even though nothing is right and/or fair (those who need to work with people will understand it….the lazy idiots are never called out and the diligent workers are often the ones being overlooked).

Does this post have a point?

I don’t know anymore….

I just want to get away…for good

Or die

And die

Just die

One step forward, two steps back

I am asexual…

There it is…I said it…for the first time in my life.
Did I also accept it by now? I don’t know to be honest…

You know, I was somehow strange as long as I can remember and in my teens Miss Depression came, followed by a full-blown Anorexia Nervosa – thus I became even more different from others, I became mentally ill.

But back then I was a weak creature, raised with mantras that a woman’s worth lies in bearing children, pleasing a man and building a family. Unfortunately (for my mother at least) I always despised children and imagining breeding something inside my body and pressing it out of my womb after nine months gives me the most horrible nightmares. So what stayed with me was the idea of sex.

Sex is something “normal”. Sex is something everybody likes, everybody HAS to like. This is now regular people view sex – it’s fun and very enjoyable.

My first time was boring as hell but it was okay. It was the first time after all and everyone around me signalised that from this first time it will only get better, get awesome.
But the feeling of boredom stayed…
I get aroused, I like kissing and touching, but in the very moment the touches wander below my belly button the arousal vanishes and I just start hoping that my partner reaches his orgasm fast and this tiresome act ends.

This is how sex for me is like.

With every partner I had.

And it was an enormous problem for me because I wanted to be “normal” at least in this sector. I never told my partners about how I feel and I went along with their needs…with the hope to maybe get used to it someday and start finally liking it.

It never happened.

Of course I knew about Asexuality but I wasn’t allowing myself to think of me as an asexual. You know, I cannot speak to people properly, I am in a constant fight with my Depression and the Binge Eating Disorder that replaced my Anorexia, I do not know how to socialise ( and no, it not as easy as “go out and just do it” – for me it’s like solving higher mathematical equations, I just don’t understand it, nothing of it) – at least I wanted to be “normal” in regards to sex…but in the end I wasn’t.

Even as I started to erase the word “normal” with all its applied meanings from my vocabulary and slowly but surely stop giving a damn about societal norms altogether, I still am not comfortable to admit it fully to myself.

Now I am in the process of accepting.

 

 

 

Fear

When will I finally choose to take everything into my hands and DO something. Not thinking, not whining, not wallowing in self-pity – just taking action!

What needs to happen that I start to force myself into fighting?

Should my stomach stop digesting food altogether?

Should I need to wear a diaper because I cannot control the movements of my bowels anymore?

What has to happen that I finally start fighting for my health, for my body and for my mind?

I don’t want it to be too late by then…I am so afraid it would be too late

 

I am so afraid