Imprisoned Mind

Do I still think about him? Oh, every day.
Every single day his memory attacks my brain, and if I don’t snap out of it, it’s like I’m falling in an endless pit swalloing me whole.
Sometimes when I’m driving, it just hits me and I start screaming from the top of my lungs to get it all out, if I don’t do so I just start sobbing uncontrollably.
I just keep remembering the good times, because that’s what we mostly had together, a good damn time.
Every heart break makes me lose a little faith for what could possibly be out there for me. I close the door on people, but most of all, I close the door on myself.
When will this be over? I don’t know…I don’t even know if I want it to be over.
I dream of him about every three weeks, dreams where I go looking after him wanting to stay with me. But he doesn’t, not even in my dreams he chooses me. He rejects me and it kills me.
The thing is that we didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. The last time I saw him, he was flipping me off with both hands walking the opposite way on puddle filled alley. The last words that I heard from him were “I can’t talk, they’ll throw me in jail” through the phone. We just stayed there for a minute listening to each others breaths.
But until this day, I wonder; Does he think of me the way I think of him? Does he remember me the way I remember him? Does he cherish the good times just like I do? Does he feel some kind of guilt? Some kind of remorse?
These are the questions that come to mind when I end up in that self-destructing turbine.
Then, forcefully, I think about the things that he did to me, the other girl, that last day, all of that just to make it go away.

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Fuck Your V-Day

I woke up at seven, got up and started getting ready for work. Nothing better than having my mom telling me shit about how I don’t do anything in my life, great. That was a hellavuh good morning for me. Went crying to my room and only gave myself four minutes to do so. After that, I realized that I wasn’t crying because of the shit my mom told me just then, but because I realized it has been a year already since I move back to San Diego since I left Oregon, since I left the one that I thought was ‘it’. My mind didn’t know it, but my heart did (or subconcious, whatevs). I’m pretty sure I’m not the only once that has experienced this kind of situation.

Since elementary, I remember getting so excited for Valentine’s, just going to the store to buy candy and the most awesome V-cards there were out there to hand out to my classmates.
At first it didn’t hurt, seeing that most of my female classmates would receive anonymous letters from guys declaring their love to them, roses and fancy chocolate being delivered. It didn’t hurt because I would think to myself “Next year…”. “Next year” never happened to me. But who am I to blame? Really? Who would do that? Who would be the poor bastard to like a chubby, four-eyed girl with a slick back ponytail like me? No one. I never had a secret Valentine, or just a Valentine for what matters. Just grew up hopeless in that department. A big ass hopeless romantic.

I was bullied for my physical appearance growing up, since first grade of Elementary, all the way up through High School. From how I would pronounce my “ch”, how my glasses were so big and thick, the extra pounds on me, and not really having a style, well, pretty much for everything. Girls would talk to me behind my back and boys would laugh right in front of my face. And I really didn’t understand why, why was I the target of so many people. Fortunately that didn’t make me change the way I was, kind.
Everything that I’ve been through has made me who I am right now. Yeah, I may be read like a female version of a Don Juan, but I do have feelings. I’ve had very nice bonds with my men, and also shitty experiences/feelings with them as well. Life has taught me to be a cabrona. It has its advantages and disadvantages, and they are usually in two extreme opposite poles.

That’s how I grew up disliking Valentine’s Day. I think I’ve only celebrated Valentine’s three times, and that was because I was dating my first boyfriend (around five years ago). Nothing before that, and still, nothing after that. I could say that I could care less, but damn, it looks like it feels hella nice. *Exhale slowly* Oh well, that’s life and I can’t do anything about it. Fuck everything and everyone, especially you, Cupid! You keep freaking missing!

 

 

Mirror, Mirror On The Wall-Who’s The Dirtiest One Of All?

It was late at night, I already ran out of coke and my friends were planning on getting some more and go to another friends place to keep on partying but I decided to stay.
Went to my favorite bar in downtown Tijuana, the bar that never closes, and ordered some 40’s of Tecate Roja with a friend that I thought was going to be alone, not accompanied with her boring ex-boyfriend. So, ofcourse, I was the only one getting drunk, whoopy…
Then, finally, things got interesting when this guy comes in and joins the opposite end of the table. Hubba! Hubba! I see him, and notice him looking back at me as well.

I knew it. I wanted him. I was going to have him. #feelingdetermined

We both knew who we were but he has, or was, been in the longest ass relationship ever with a girl that has the bitch face resting syndrome (she’s actually very pretty and has huge tits), but Ms. Steal Your Man saw him without his bodyguard and only with male friends that looked that were ready to have a great time, and so was I.
Like about a 40 oz later, he and his crew got a booth and about half an hour after, the booth right next to his was free with my name written all over it.
My friend, my very fun friend, decided to leave with her ex, even when I clearly stayed and passed on good blow because she wanted to have a “drunken” night #myballs. So before she left, I asked her if she could quickly ask for his name and introduce me to him, but she got “nervous” #goddamn. **Ps. That’s the easiest way to meet someone when a couple of drinks are in your system, but she couldn’t even do that …**

A friend that we, the guy and I, have in common sat with me and we were just remembering the good ol’ days. I asked him what was up with his buddy and ‘assured’ me that he was still dating his girl, but I decided not to believe in that. Trust me, I wasn’t the only one after him. Before I made my move, I saw how two girls failed. The second girl didn’t take the hint and was just annoying the fuck out of him, so I decided to play hero and save him #ifyouknowhwatImean. That’s when I just turned around and made a “come over” sign with my hand, and he did. That was it (Thank god for my psychology classes and body language reading abilities).
He sat on my left side and our buddy was on my right. While we were laughing and ordering more drinks, he was touching my leg up and down and squeezing my ass. That’s when I thought “Hu, the girl ain’t on the picture anymore eh’?”, because we were right next to his homies, which are his gilfriend’s friends too, so I just went with it.

About an hour later we were leaving that joint, I opened the door and the sun was blinding our eyes, who know’s what time it was.
We arrived, went into my crib and sat in different couches of my living room. I went quickly to my bedroom to get my water pipe and weed. Started lighting it up, offered him some but he declined. I smoked a little more, placed everything aside and locked him down, with my legs ofcourse. Damn, things got hot very quick. He didn’t mind that I was on my period #real #best (Don’t worry, it was my first day, so no murder scene going on).

Not even kidding, we fucked in the couch, we fucked in the dining room against a full sized mirror, also fucked in the kitchen against the refrigerator, fucked in the restroom against that mirror, left him in the shower, went to my other shower to rinse and clean everything and joined him again; we fucked standing up with the water running over us, and also laying down on the tub. We finally took the situation to my bedroom; we fucked standing against my mirror, again, and on my bed. He fucked me so good, as if he hadn’t fucked in years.
That rough, hair pulling, face slapping, ass spanking, name calling, shoulder biting, raw, hella good kind of sex #mykindofsex. Damn, he was good. I came multiple times and so did he. We both passed out, well, he did, I was only able to rest my eyes for like an hour before I had to get up and take care of my babies (pets). He woke up around 7:00 pm, I laid right next to him and asked him for his phone so I could delete all the porn videos that we made earlier that day #lol.
When we were saying our goodbyes he said “We’ll see each other soon, maybe sooner than we think”, in my mind I was like “Fuck yeah, baby”.

Afterwards, I just stayed at home, ate pizza and watched movies. The next morning I had to trace my steps and clean up the whole house. Our hand prints were on all the mirrors throughout the place (If you’ve ever been, you’ve seen how many I have…plenty!) It was like going back to memory lane, remembering what happened in every mirror that we stopped (fucked) by. If only mirrors could speak.

Entretien

-So what’s your blog really about?
My blog is about myself, my life, my experiences. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
It’s about the rough patches that I’ve been through, dating, and sex (so far). I will be touching delicate and very personal points in the near future.
But believe it or not, sometimes it’s not that easy to do, you know? Because I have to “relive” everything to be able to write it.

-What is it that you want to show the world? Cause I mean, it’s open to the public.
Believe me, it’s something that I really thought about it through. I know that my topics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, I know that they’re out there.
I find it very therapeutic to write about the things that I’ve been through, and it has been nice to connect with people that have been through the same. It’s very rewarding when I get to read messages from my readers.

-I see that you touch really personal points, are you afraid of judgement, or any backlashes from the people that you’ve written about?
No, I’m not afraid of judgement. It’s something that people will do whether you do good or wrong. The only person that should be able to judge you, it’s yourself only. Yes, I am just a little bit worried, but I am careful about it. The names that I’ve used aren’t theirs,  I do keep their identity safe.
Another thing that I’m kind of worried about is if I start dating someone, and that person reads my blog,  that it would make him insecure.

-Are your next blog posts are going to be only about sex?
No, not everything is about sex. I will keep writing about it, but it’s not the main point of my blog. It’s funny, since the last blog post that was uploaded, I’ve been receiving messages from guys wanting to hook up. But that’s the thing with me, I like the hunt, I like the story behind it, I like to win my prize.
No, you won’t be on my blog! I’m not gonna write about your cock! Sorry…just wanted to make that clear.

-Do you take any relationship seriously? Have you been in any serious relationships before?
Yeah, when they’re meant to be. I’m not a relationship kind of girl. I don’t like to jump into them because I’m bored or because I feel alone. On the contrary, I like my solitude and freedom a lot.
And yes, I’ve been in two serious relationships, one lasted over two years, and the other one, well, I really thought he was the one but shit happens. You can read  about how that on my first blog posts on my page.

Lemme tell ya’ something, just to leave everything clear, when I’m in a relationship, I give my all. I’m the kind of girl that’ll cook for you everyday, pour you a beer when you get back from work, your ride or die, just have eyes for you and no one else. Now that’s me in a relationship. Me being single? That’s a different story.

-Are you looking to be in a relationship right now?
Looking? No… How sad that would be, looking for love. Ew, no…
If something happens, great. If it doesn’t happen, well, NEXT!. I don’t like pressuring things. I like to go with the flow. Besides, I’m picky as fuck, so there’s that.

-What will happen to your blog once you do so? Will you keep writing?
Yes, I’ll keep writing. I have plenty to write about.

-So, how is your writing process? How is it that you decide which story to write about? In this case, about men.
Mmmm..So the thing about me, isn’t to see how many men I fuck, no. It’s mostly the story behind it. How I got him, the connection that we had spiritually and physically. There has to be excitement, sparks, lust! Those are the stories that I truly find worth sharing with everyone. I don’t mind making fun of myself either, it’s just the way I am, the way I always have been.

-My final question. What is your type of men?
My type? I don’t think I have one. One thing I’ll tell ya’, I’m not a chubby chaser. The only one that can be chubby here is me! I don’t know, I’ve only been attracted to one chubby guy, right now he’s skinny as hell though. But yeah, I think that would be the only thing, I like them from thin to average I guess, but that’s the only thing psychically.
Personality wise, I like them to be assertive, confident, hard working, and adventurous.

 

 

 

Off we go…

So before hitting the road, I went to fill up the tank, get some air on my tires, an oil change and a quick check-up. Well, when I went to get my check-up, the mechanic told me that I made a good desicion on getting it done, I didn’t even take a look under the hood, because my radiator cap wasn’t there. It sucks to realize that the person you loved, maliciously, wanted to hurt you, to leave you stranded in the middle of nowhere…

I don’t even remember where my first stop was, if in Idaho or somewhere before that in Oregon. During that first night I called his mom to let her know what had happened, that I wasn’t going to press charges because I just wanted to get as far away as I could. She understood the position that I was in, actually, she understood it very well because she was in the same position I was in years ago with her ex-husband, my ex-boyfriend’s dad. His dad, an alcoholic, heroin addict, bipolar, schizophrenic. I can clearly remember how he would say that he has always been white trash, that he had worked so much to not be that type of person.

When I finally reached Utah, my car started failing, it was hella cold outside and my needle was fluctuating straightly to hot after every mile I would try to drive. I ended up staying four nights in a Super 8 Motel in a very small populated city, Tremonton. The bills were adding up, my funds were running out, and my desperation and depression were increasing by the minute. Every night, before going to sleep, I would have to do yoga and respiration excersizes to make my heartrate go down and stay down. My company on my slepless nights was a woman from the 24 hr Domestic Violence hotline. Sometimes the calls would consist of nothing, I just wanted some kind of company that knew exactly what I was going through, and she would bear with me every time I called.

 

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                                                                                                                                           Motel 6    Tremonton, UT