We are having another drunken slumber party tonight. I know I will get way to drunk and probably be hung over tomorrow. I wish I had more will power! And I also know that after a few drinks (rum and cherry Coke, my personal favorite) I will be begging for a cigarette or smoking the nasty butts that are on the porch from last week. Gross. I hate smoking. When will I ever not be craving one anymore. Why does such a stupid thing like this hold such power! Ahhhhhh....

KISS

The touch of lips

bring shivers to my chest

arrows make my heart bleed

and Im dying now

full lips I want to eat

with hungry baby reaction

swallow my hurt

ease my pain

and now I’m stunned to admit

I love you

those kisses were so afraid

long after the moment passed

I still linger here

wondering where you are

pit of desires

in my soul

this is not a child in my womb

but remains of me

a kiss won’t do any harm

only bring my lips to rest

naked with you is like clothes

I got so drunk last night. Red wine will mess you up real quick. I spilled it all over the sofa, but I don’t even care because its an ugly sofa and we are giving it to Goodwill in a few weeks. I started in on Andrew again with bringing up all my past issues. It turned out bad. He called me a whore. I cried. A lot.

I hurt him too. By throwing the fact that I used to be promiscuous in his face. He knows that. Why do I feel like I constantly need to remind him of it. And the rape too, I can’t let it go. Whenever I drink I bring it up. In fact when ever I drink I always start to go off about how fucked up my life used to be. All the terrible things that have happened to poor little me. I wish I could say I will never do that again. But I can’t seem to hold my tongue

I need to stop drinking so often.

I think I am looking for attention. I crave it. I loved to be looked at and admired. Treasured. I love it when people look at me and think I am amazing, beautiful, and they want to possess me. That’s why I like the threesomes so much. When all those eyes are on me I feel like a fucking porn star. I know I am hot too. I love to show off and tease. It’s in my nature I think. But now I am a good wife and mother. I need to behave. And I understand this. In reality I don’t want to hurt my family, tear us apart the way my father did to me and my siblings. I just have bad urges and fantasies. It’s a good thing Andrew lets me be bi or else I would have no extracurricular fun.

I think I need to do something drastic to be rid of my shameful past. It does torture me. It creeps into my mind sometimes and I just can’t shake it off.

I am not that girl anymore. I have made a metamorphosis. I transformed into a woman who is smart and knows how to respect her body. I made mistakes and I learned from them. But I think the reason that my history plagues me is because I am still having sex and now I am allowed to enjoy it. Its not bad anymore. But because I am still taking part in that act, that was the same as the things that happened, the memories stay fresh in my mind. Well only from time to time. It will pop into my head and make me remember what a slut I am. How I was so disgusting. I hated to be alive at that time. I need to forget about it all and start anew.

I want to burn something. Watch it go up in flames and see the smoke fly up in to heaven. I want to smell the ashes and feel the hotness on my cheeks and eyelids. I want to burn that part of myself so that I will be sterile and clean inside. Burn all the evil out of me. I want to see my soul all aflame and glowing in the center of the blaze. I would stand by and watch the entire thing from beginning to end, so I could be sure it was truly out of me. It would burn all night long until sunrise. Just as the sun began to rise the ashes would be smoldering and dying out. I would walk up to the pit and reach inside. There would lie my soul. White and hot, pure and new. It would shine like glass in the morning sun. I would pick it up carefully, as to not damage it. It would be warm still on my finger tips, slightly wounding my flesh. I would raise it up to the sky. Then in one motion I would put it to my lips and swallow it whole. It would be so sweet to me. I could feel it inside my belly, warm and alive like a baby inside a womb. There it would rest with me until I died. I would be a new person. Revived and cleansed from my previous self. I would be able to move on.

Well here goes day three. Don’t worry I won’t be counting the days of my medication for ever! I think I am just going to this week.

I had the most bizarre dream last night. Well actually it wasn’t all that bizarre, just wrong I guess. I won’t give all the dirty details but basically I fucked my husbands boss in the dream and loved doing it. To make it extra devious I did this all while my husband sat in the next room. And the strange part to me was that after he came all over my back (we were doing it doggy style) I asked him rub it all into my skin, all over me. This was supposed to be so that when my husband touched me it would be like a big joke, an evil secret or something like that.

Now Andrew knows that in real life I do want to fuck his boss. His boss is actually the only man I have sincerely wanted to sleep with since I was married. Andrew is cool about it. Or he says he is at least. I would never do it with out his consent, but if he wanted to have a three some I would definitely be down. But the guy is married, I know I shouldn’t think like that. Something about him turns me on. Maybe it’s the fact that he is married and taboo. Well anyhow it was a fun dream.

Andrew has been saying that he wants to do more BSDM stuff again. More hardcore and stricter punishments. I’m not so sure I like that stuff any more. I think if we really got into it and were totally playing as characters I would like it. I don’t like it when he spanks me so hard and without saying a word. Then I feel as if he really wants to hurt me. And I feel guilty afterwards. I have always loved talking during sex. That’s sometimes the only way I can get off.

The baby has been giving me hell this week. She still won’t sleep through the night, and she is over 4 months by now. I am used to the sleepwalking over to her room by now. I’m so glad I am breast feeding her. If I wasn’t I would have gone crazy for real by now. It’s just all to simple and natural to pop my tit in her mouth. And she is just in love with it. All smiles when she has it; looking up at me with milk dripping from her mouth. It’s quite entertaining.

I am starting to get serious about losing weight. I look at all my adorably cute trendy clothes in my closet and want to die. Anorexia isn’t all that bad for you right? I mean just for a few weeks?

I am kidding, but really, something has to change or I am afraid that I will give up and turn in to a full blown blimp. I never knew that pain that a chubby girl must feel until I had the baby and gained all this weight. I was always the friend that told her chubby friends "No, you don’t look fat in those pants" and they would sulk and say to me "Kristina, you are so f-ing skinny you have no clue what its like to be fat." And I was and I didn’t. But now I’ve got my comeuppance. At least I have a child for my troubles. Still, nothing makes me feel worse about myself than when I get out of the shower and see those atrocious purple stretch marks on my once lovely hips. And the way I have little fat deposits just about everywhere. I used to love my tummy....

Well I am a mom. That’s just the way it goes. But I feel much to young to have already given up my beauty and sex appeal. Just at this time last year I was 40 lbs lighter. Hmmm.... best not to dwell on that I think.

Life is rather boring for me. I want to try to do something better for myself. To explore the world and myself. I used to be so full of energy and life. I loved with passion. I wrote poetry nearly every day. I had friends that liked me for who I was. I wonder if all that disappeared when I took my marriage vows. I do love Andrew. But we are such different people. It is an advantage for us and also a disadvantage. He used to admire my spirt and individuality. I get the feeling he is tired of it by now. I know I am a lot to handle. He loves me still though. I’m sure any guy would love a wife that gives him such freedoms as I do. We will be together all this life I am sure. We are just one of those couples. I can’t even picture him not being with me when I’m an old woman. I do think that God brought us together. It’s predestined. Him coming all the way from India like that!? And me growing up in that hillbilly hell hole... But we found each other. Now if we can just get through this rough patch I’m sure things will be fine. That’s what my hope for the meds are. That I will become normal me again.

Yesterday I felt a little better. Not attributed to my new medication, I think I just have some new hope now. Maybe things will be improving soon. Lets Hope...

I need to figure out some way to get up off my ass, off the computer, and get some exercise. Time to energize myself. I feel so sleepy each and every morning. I can’t do the coffee thing either. Coffee makes my stomach hurt and then I need to lay down. I love Coke though. I used to drink a Coke for breakfast, but to much sugar now I think. Trying to lay off the over processed American crap.

My bed always feels just so comfy and nice. It has all white sheets, white pillows and feather pillows, mattress... It makes me feel like a princess. That’s about as far from the truth as I can get though. Im more like a slave now. A slave to my baby, a slave to my husband, a slave to my house. I need some me time. If I was wealthy I would go to a day spa. Oh to be pampered! While I was at it I would buy a new wardrobe and get my hair all cutely done. Maybe after I lose the baby pounds I can do something like that. I need to feel like a hot momma I guess.

I guess that if I were to go to sleep at a decent hour then maybe I wouldn’t be so tired anymore. With the baby I am forced to wake up early, yet I stay up so late. It makes me feel free.

I wish I were one of those high energy ladies that could do a million things a day and still have time for their family and friends. I wish that I had a car or something so that I could leave my prison of a home and take an adventure. I would love to go to the zoo or Japanese gardens for the day. Especially this time of year. Autumn is my favorite time of year. The colors are so warm and the word feels crisp and fresh. I love making fires in the fireplace, and snuggling up on the sofa watching scarey movies. Not to scarey, because they give me panic attacks latter on. But like a good Hitchcock movie is perfect.

Mmmmm and then there are all the yummy foods that come out in Fall. Apple cider, pumpkin pie, cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves— all the best smells and tastes. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a little bakery? I would be the best at it, I do like to bake. Well except for the fact that never measure anything precisely and I hate to do the dishes afterwards. But I could really go for some sinckerdoodles right about now! (We have no food in the house to speak of, lol)

Well its time to move on with the day. I just took my meds so here goes day two. Wish me luck.

Well it has been a long time coming. I went to the doctor for some drugs. I have felt this way for so long and kept it very closed off from everyone. It took a lot to make me realize how messed up I am right now.

People always just said I was quiet; shy and reserved. In school I know that most assumed I was a snob or stuck up. I am so not, but I come across that because I can’t ever get a damn word out when I am spoken to. I get all hot and flushed. I look at the floor. I twist my hair. I must look like an idiot. A silly little girl.

I can’t make any friends. I have made a few, but after a month or two I tell them that I basically don’t want to be their friend anymore. I have hurt every friend I ever had. I drop them suddenly just forget about them when they get to close for comfort. And I think I am doing it on purpose. They just always fall in love with me. Not in a romantic sense, but they smother me. Once I open up to someone they always seem to think I am there new best friend. Which I love for a short while, but then I want someone new to worship me. I am so terrible. I am always complaining that I have no friends... hmmmm I wonder why.

I am not a mean person though. I love people. Really I do. But I can never get up to leave the house. I agonize over it. Going to the grocery store is the highlight of my week. And even then I must look so stupid. I need to do my makeup and look all cute. What the hell for? I know I don’t need to impress anyone! But it makes me feel better about the whole situation...

Funny thing is everyone thinks I am so normal. I am so good at pretending by now. It started when I was 13 so I have had a lot of practice at getting out of situations and seeming normal at the same time. It works. I have so many excuses.

I guess the worst thing is that I want to be normal so very badly. I want to be able like myself and feel good. I want to be able to talk to another girl without analyzing her every word and gesture. Thinking she is better than me, prettier or smarter or skinner. I want to be able to go on one car ride without having visions of my inevitable death in a horrendous car crash. I want to go one day without just knowing that my baby will be blue and cold when I go into to check on her at nap time. I want to stop my irrational fear that a demon will pop out from underneath my bed at night and pull me under. Or that a rapist will break down my door and murder my entire family. I want to stop saying "I hate you" in my head when ever my husband makes the tiniest mistake. I want to stop seeing the words divorce, in big red bloody letters, in my head, cutting in to me. I want to stop thinking about how I will die. Thinking about the worst possible ways it might happen.

I am not suicidal though. I am scared to die. It just feels like something terrible is bound to happen to me. So many bad things happen every day. My life is screwed up in many ways, but there is so many more things that could happen. And they are out of my control. I guess I feel like if I think of every possibility then there is less of a chance they could come to be. But it is silly I know. I am scared of ghosts and demons capturing me.... why don’t I just grow up!!!

I hope the medicine will help me. I don’t like drugs. I used to smoke weed as a teenager and it made me happy for a while until I got the worst panic attacks of my life and thought that I couldn’t breath anymore. I know this won’t be just like that. But I don’t like to depend on anything out side of myself. But I know I need to give it a try for my families sake. At this point I don’t even know if it could get much worst.

The thing is I don’t even know what you would call my problems. I am only depressed some of the time. Sometimes I feel great. Whenever I go out of my house is mainly when I feel like a freak that should crawl under a rock. I am pretty good at home, but I am so mean to my husband at times, others I am a perfect submissive little wife. I just want to be the best woman in the word. Better than anyone else. I get so mad though. About small things, like him leaving his socks in the living room. I am a clean freak But I do love him and I am glad that he can still love me after all we have been through. I don’t understand how he does it.

That’s all the venting I can handle for now. This is the first day of meds so I can’t wait to see if they make a difference. I sure hope so.