Willpower

Willpower...I not haz it.

As you probably already know if you've been following this blog, I'm trying desperately to control some of my shittier behavior. By this, I mean lashing out at people, drinking to make myself feel better, and fucking random dudes as a way to validate myself. I'm not succeeding so well with the first one--though in my defense, I'm lashing out more at people who deserve it and less at people who do not. But I am doing better with the other two.

Only thing is, I'm exhausting myself by trying. Fighting the urge to give in to my two favorite coping mechanisms, alcohol and sex, is wearing me the fuck out. And for what? In the grand scheme of things, nobody gives a shit if I fuck every man who looks my way and chug liquor like it's going out of style.

I'm the only one who I'll hurt by doing this. I won't hurt another soul. I don't drive when I drink, and I don't fight, and I don't make myself someone else's responsibility. I generally just giggle a lot, talk loudly, and finally fall asleep once I get still. And as for the fucking, well, I don't have any venereal diseases to give anyone, and I try to be up front about the fact that I'm using men for sex. So I don't see the problem there, either.

And if I hurt...eh. I'm used to it. It's a constant state of being for me, and at the very least, these behaviors offer a temporary escape mechanism from the pain.

If I'm honest, the desire to get shitfaced has pretty much subsided. It usually does. That's one reason it's easier to ignore. If a new tragedy pops up, it'll come back, but as long as the drama stays at a dull roar, I can control it.

But the desire to fuck random strangers? Stronger than it's been in years. I don't need to give in, but I'm probably going to. I'll be posting Craigslist ads before the week is out. I can't stand this fucking solitary, isolated existence anymore, and if the only fucking way I can get attention is, well, fucking, then I guess I'll do it.

My relationship with sex is so fucked up. It's an addiction of sorts. Not in the strictest sense of the term, but it is something I always come back to to help me cope.

It's also not an "OMG, me so horny!" kind of thing, either. It's a twisted compulsion that I keep coming back to because I apparently have a thing for hurting myself over and over and over.

And really? I don't care anymore. Let me go ahead and self-destruct. I'm going mad again, anyway, so it's really just a matter of time. I just need some sort of release from the chains that I keep myself tangled up in, and the one with the key curses my very name.

So random dudes to make me forget about the chains it is. Given the sea of tears I've cried over all the bullshit life has thrown at me in 27 years, what's another few drops?

Maybe I'll feel stronger in the morning.