So, perhaps none of you know who Jahmene Aaron Douglas is, but you need to go youtube him immediately. I first saw him on the uk x factor and fell in love with him. And now he's growing in popularity pretty fast. I know all of his songs, and I found him on instagram. And omg, guess what? He followed me!!!
ive been freaking out all evening. Like, you have no idea how much i love this guy. Im going to meet him oneday, i promise you that. I will marry Jahmene Douglas.
*Cue the creepy stalker music*
This is something I'm kind-of curious about. I don't quite understand how sex could be loveless, not because I don't have sex with people that I don't love beforehand, but because I love the people I have sex with while I have sex with them.
Recently I've discovered just how intense my personal propensity for violence is; that horrid thrill that comes of bruising skin and tearing flesh brings me a joy unmatched by any form of sexual intimacy. Naturally, my horror at the idea of harming a person who doesn't wish to be harmed hasn't been at all diminished- but where I once thought myself completely incapable of violence, I find that I'm certainly quite capable and very, very willing.
1)I abruptly removed Tyler from my life once again.
2)I'm coming to terms with the fact that Edwin is moving to California. (Oh, I forgot to write a journal on that....)
3) The guy that I have been talking to (Marksley shall be his name since I gave him that nickname in person anyways) is increasingly growing on me, albeit the fact I've been keeping up my walls with extra guards on duty. It's almost been a month that we have been talking, and still no mess ups or loveless sex, which is a great sign.
by no less than the U. S. Postal Service! I hope the forthcoming stamp will be for regular first class letters...
It was a point of tired horror in my earlier shifts when I realized I was starting to recognize and compartmentalize separate pieces of garbage in my mind, remembering them from shift to shift.
A few pieces have been there since I started a few weeks ago, others have sorta blown in and out.
(Funny side note, in this article elph showed me:
I've been struggling with depression for years. Anyone who knows me knows that much. I've also been struggling with a past that haunts my every thought and consistently eats away at my mind. And worst, of late I've been struggling with mental health issues that have become so extreme that it's excruciatingly painful to be conscious.
Sometimes it's a labour to get out of bed every morning. Sometimes it's a labour to breathe. Anymore, it's always a labour to stay alive.
That seems like the best way to describe it.
At the climax (and the only remotely enjoyable part) of my day, I was outside playing (or rather pretending to play) a shitty game of football in the field beside my school. I was completely ignoring the game, but the atmosphere of the field, with the bad weather, was so powerful that it felt as if every memory I had ever experienced was manifesting in that field at that exact time. It was one of the best sensations I've experienced in my life.
I guess it's about time I this out into the open air.
I should be sleeping, but I don't have class until 2 tomorrow, and I'm enjoying some alone time while my roommate is out doing god knows what. I've been listening to a lot of full albums lately. My personal favorite right now is Brand New's "Your Favorite Weapon". (Can you guess which song off the album is my favorite?)
I really need to make some friends who aren't on my floor. Well, I guess Cute Blonde Girl counts as my friend by now, sort of? Maybe? Yeah, I'm gonna count her. And she definitely doesn't live here, so let me rephrase that: I really need to make some friends who aren't on my floor and who I'm not attracted to.
My floormates are nice and I like most of them, but I'm around them pretty much 24/7. And several of them are really nosy, which annoys me a lot. Well, except my roommate, thankfully. I like her even though our personalities are vastly different. She's great because she never asks why my alarm goes off at 7 every Sunday or wonders why I change outfits a million times almost every morning or questions me when I'm on the internet laughing at nothing.
Tyler was an ex from February. We dated for a total of about three weeks exactly, but it felt like forever. I really enjoyed his company, up until he ended it for no reason whatsoever. I thought I'd completely erased him... that is until his name popped up on my phone yesterday. I never could bring myself to erase his number, albeit deleting all other forms of our memories (photos, gifts, notes, etc).
We talked a lot yesterday. Almost like February all over again. It was really sweet, and he even told me about how he was sorry about how it all played out, that he wanted me back.
There's really not a whole lot to report. It was harrowing, of course, and I kept not taking opportunities to start the talk, and I undoubtedly would have chickened out if my girlfriend hadn't been there keeping me strong.
It was a big milestone for me and my family, and she didn't really belong there because of that, but I needed her there for strength. She didn't say anything, except when I asked her to help me explain things. Just held my hand for encouragement.
I have to write about something that's a big part of me, well at least my gayness, but I really don't get it. Maybe some of you can help?
I have a gear fetish. I get hard looking (and thinking) about guys in jockstraps-especially with cups-and sports uniforms. And if I can see their underarms...damn that makes me superhard! When that happens, as much as I don't want it to it makes me feel like a freak.
In my last journal I wrote about my family and how I came about, and this time I'm going to discuss my first encounters with racism and my bisexuality. These two topics will be a common theme in what I write here.
There was a dream I had about one year ago, perhaps more fitting, a nightmare. This horrible conjuring had never occurred since then, one year ago. It was enough to frighten me, but at the same time enough to let me forget it and move on, to move on in my dreams and adventures in slumber. Only to have it occur once more.