9. Physical Abuse
As a child, I chose to be physically abused. I come from a poor family, both parents constantly working and never home. I was young, and my sister and I couldn’t take care of ourselves. I was 6 and my sister 7, and we’d be forced to go to my aunt’s house to be babysat; not always by my aunt. It began when I was 5, and we were visiting my aunt but she had left for work and were left in the hands of my alc*holic uncle. It started with verbal abuse, saying we were a plague on his household, we were horrible kids and every nasty thing you could say to a 5 year old. He was a drunk, I understood why he was always yelling. It started escalating from yelling across the room to in our faces. By the time I turned 6, He was in our faces every time we were left in his care. It took a turn for the physical when he started throwing things at us. After months of screaming, throwing shoes, clothes, toys and different household objects at us, he finally started to take a turn for hitting us with his hand. I knew he would go after my sister, because she was the girl. Every time I heard him scream, I would lock my sister in a closet and tell her to stay until I came and got her. For about 10 months I was subjected to beatings, being burnt with cigarettes up and down my legs, arms, and back; Subjected to being thrown around, and assaulted verbally and physically. Throughout the times I was being assaulted I would lock my sister away, hiding her from him, choosing to keep him distracted with me instead of her. Half the time I would convince her that we were playing a game, and her memories were only of her hiding from a screaming deranged drunk. She never knew what was actually going on. After I turned 7, I had learned how to patch up any wounds I received while being beaten. Spending time reading books and watching instructional videos on first aid and self defense. Teaching myself how to block some of the more powerful hits to stave off more serious injury.
10. “I know what I’m thinking is wrong”
Sometimes, when I’m alone…or when I’m in my room at night. I can picture myself, killing my friends, not just my friends all my “girl” friends all of them. When I shut my eyes I can see their faces, I can here their screams, I can picture every gruesome detail, every monologue in my head…. And it feels good. You know what the funny part is? I think I can get away with it, and I think about it constantly…I want to tell someone but I don’t know who. There are several reasons for why I would want to do something like this…one girl, I will call her rouge, because red is her favorite color, I’ve had a crush on her for the longest time and we’ve been best friends since high school. I’ve asked her out several times before and she never gives me a response instead she ignores me, or changes the subject and ends up going out with some complete jackass that shares nothing in common with her. But you know what she doesn’t have a problem doing? Asking me for rides at 3 a.m when I have to wake up for a 15 hour shift in less than 5 hours, asking me for money, asking me to complete her projects, or to give her a ride to her asshole boyfriends house and doesn’t even so much give me a thank you! And I have explained this to her so many times…what she’s doing to me. How she makes me feel. But she just. Doesnt. Get it. How I would love to torture her and violate her body and take a few pictures…and then there’s Devilyn, because the devils are in the details…shes a f*cking little tease,despite all the things I have done for her she has the nerve to talk behind my back and deny me in front of her friends! But she has absolutely no problem asking me for favors none! I’m sick of it!…I know what I’m thinking is wrong…but I can see it, vividly…and I know it’s not normal.
11. Playing at Work
I hear stories all the time about people sucking or f*cking their bosses to get out of work. I wish I could find one that paid okay, and I could sit around and play on my phone all day, masturbate openly while at work, talk to guys on the phone, then at the end of the day just suck my bosses d*ck and go home.
12. “I can’t stop thinking about her”
I want my best friend’s girlfriend for my own. I’ve known the girlfriend for much longer than I have known the best friend, and we have always clicked. As close to a soulmate as possible. But then we met my best friend, and he’s my best friend because he’s just like me, and I love him like a brother, because he’s the platonic equivalent. But I can’t stop thinking about her, she’s a goddess, think Taylor Swift with a fuller figure. She’s impossibly perfect, i have no doubt that she is as good as humanity has to offer. I want her. But I can’t lose the best friend that I have ever had. I don’t know.
13. Fantasy
I constantly fantasize and masturbate to pictures of my female friends. I don’t know if this is normal or not but It’s been on my chest for a while.
I have folders dedicated to girls I think are hot that I’m friends with.
14. First Time
I lost my virginity to a prostitute… Long story short, it was… pleasant. I was 27 and had never been naked with a woman before, nor had I ever fooled around (even foreplay). I’ll admit simply getting over this hurdle was worth it but I didn’t perform very well (anxiety!). We finished in 30 minutes and spent the next 30 minutes just chatting.
15. “My tiny brain thought it was genuinely facing death”
When I was 5, I went to daycare for the summer and suffered mental abuse from the caretakers there. They would always threaten to cut my head off and put it in a flower-pot. I would get scared and start to cry, so they would threaten me further if I didn’t stop crying.
One afternoon, they were doing their typical bullsh*t towards me, and again I began to bawl my eyes out. The main caretaker who took care of the babies actually called me over to her, set a bucket next to her, and told me to lay on her lap. I did what she said, and she pretended like she was about to cut my head off with a pair of scissors. I was so shocked and afraid that I just stopped crying. My tiny brain thought it was genuinely facing death.
After only a minute or so of nothing happening, I think the caretaker knew she went too far, and tried to comfort me. I just sat there on her lap, kind of staring off. She let me down, and I just went to a desk and sat there. I kept thinking in my head what I’d done so wrong to be almost put to death.
A week or so later, I was taken out of that center and put in a much nicer one because apparently the workers at the old one were known for f*cking around with the kids.
