Stuff is Messed up....

Oh, it's that time again, where I feel like using me body as a means of escape from this pain I feel inside. How is it I always seem to do this to myself? I let myself get low enough to the point where I'm willing to give me body to any person willing to take me, and make me believe that they care, ha ha. How did I end up like this, how did I become this person so desperate for love, and tenderness that I would give out my body to those willing to take?

Things were so much simpler when I had Mitch, when it was just him that I lived for, even though he didn't live for me. I told myself he must love me, he must care if he was willing to take my body into his. I continued with him for four years until I broke, I told him I loved him and guess what, he didn't love me.

After this I went into a depression, and what came out of that? My discovery of craigslist, ah what a way to hand out my body as a way to escape my emotions. I allowed various men to come into my house, and use me as their little fuck toy, and sometimes I went with them. My body became a thing that was available to anyone who asked for it. I was able to meet two different guys who cared for me at some point. Brian, and Chris.

Brian lived close to me, but was 31 years old and in the closet. He cared about me, even going so far as to say he loved me, what did I do than? I ran away, I became depressed and moody towards him. I scared him and pissed him off, and guess what, he stopped caring about me.

Chris was a bit closer to my age, but he lived in Marina Del Rey. He was a bit less into me, but still cared somewhat. I let my emotion take hold and I gave myself to him, and guess what, he took it. We didn't see each other often, and this was problem. I fucked it up when he came to fuck me, and I told him I was gonna fuck someone else after him. Guess he didn't like that.

All this while sex wasn't enough to escape myself anymore, I began to use drugs as my next form of escape. First it was pot, that didn't do much but it still felt a bit better, that is until I met Ecstasy. That took me far and let me find some peace while I was "rolling," but after the depression hit harder than anything, and my body was the way I escaped.

I kept using until I decided I needed to stop for my health, it wasn't easy but I did it. I went off to New York to work at a summer camp, this I honestly believe saved my life. I was able to fell free from my addictions, and I my needs came second to the needs of my boys. Though I did use my body once in Canada, it was only because I hadn't cum in a while.

I got back and tried to continue my life of sobriety, and acceptance. That didn't last long. I fucked a few guys, and now here I am feeling shitty wanting to do it again, wanting to do the drugs, and hand out my body on a silver platter. Here I am in a pool of self pity, bitching about how I feel. Maybe I will someday find that one special guy who will take my body, not in lust, but in love, maybe someday I will find my Knight in shinning armor who will be all that I need to get high. Until than, my body is all I can use to be satisfied.

(UN)Happy Thoughts...