He wants to own me.

Hello. Still here.

I have a boyfriend. Every time I think I know what to think of him, something always changes. Today he brought out a brand new side of him that I didn't expect would come out so soon. He said he wants me to be his whore. He wants to own me. He wants me labelled with tattoos of his name, the word "whore", and a significant date that might come up one day.

The stories in Nymphomaniac might one day become my stories.

He wants to label me and brand me as his own. He's possessive yet he wants to see me with other men.

I don't know what to do, I don't know what to think. I'm conflicted. This seems like it's a disaster just waiting to happen, but at the same time it could be the best thing ever to happen to me. Someone actually wants a future with me. Someone actually wants to love me.

I don't know if I feel uncomfortable. I don't know what I feel. I feel numb.

Really fucking awesome!

"I've always depended on the kindness of strangers."

It amazes me how comfortable I feel in the arms of a stranger. I'm thinking about one person in particular here - Chris. The first time I met him we slept together. I hugged him like I knew him for years. I kissed him like I belonged with him. I don't even know his last name.

With my clients I was the same. I touched them like I knew them. Kissed them like I belonged to them. And, of course, for that hour I did. But it was something more than that. There was a kind of energy that my unconscious mind utilised. I needed it more than they did. I needed the kindness of those strangers to make me feel wanted. They didn't love me - not emotionally or psychologically(?).  They loved me physically and that was good enough. It is good enough.

Years ago I detested the idea of superficial relationships. Now I thrive on them. Especially the kind that give me good business.

Feeling stupid and inferior.

Just now I was speaking to my cousins about TV shows. I mentioned that someone once compared me to Donna in Suits, and immediately my cousins jumped down my throat saying how "cool" and "funny" Donna is. I wouldn't know, I've never watched Suits.

There's a word to describe what I'm feeling. I don't know what it is. Stupid? Inferior? Ridiculous ? Ashamed? The way they approached that situation was just so inappropriate. I'm feeling ridiculous. It brought back all the memories I have of my own sister and brother-in-law telling me that I'm a loser. My sister was never bothered until my brother-in-law manipulated her into hating me for it.

I just feel so shit. Like, okay, we might not be the same, but you don't need to tell me that in a way which implies I'm uncool and humourless.

The funny thing is my cousins don't know me at all. They've never tasted my humour. They've never seen a genuine side of me. One of them has only seen my worst because I can't stand her. The other makes me so nervous to speak to him because he's so awkward. While what they said hurt me, I don't know what to think of it because they're not in a position where they can judge who or what TV character I'm like/unlike.

The thing that's getting to me and making me so butthurt is the way they approached the subject. The only way I can think to explain it is that they verbally jumped me and gave me a verbal slap in the face which basically said "how dare you degrade Donna by bringing her down to your level and comparing her to you - the two of you are incomparable - you're too much of a loser to even be a little bit like her".

I dunno. It's a weird feeling I'm feeling. Definitely something new.

I spent over a week trying to make peace with these cousins because I can't stand them. This little experience I just had with them shit on the progress I made with them. I genuinely thought I started liking them again. Guess I should have know better.

Quotes from Lady Chatterly's Lover

’Blest be the tie that binds Our hearts in kindred  something-or-other’

'Ye shall know the tree by its fruit.’

 ‘Real knowledge comes out
of the whole corpus of the consciousness; out of your belly
and your penis as much as out of your brain and mind. The
mind can only analyse and rationalize. Set the mind and
the reason to cock it over the rest, and all they can do is
to criticize, and make a deadness. I say ALL they can do.
It is vastly important. My God, the world needs criticizing
today...criticizing to death. Therefore let’s live the mental
life, and glory in our spite, and strip the rotten old show.
But, mind you, it’s like this: while you LIVE your life, you
are in some way an Organic whole with all life. But once
you start the mental life you pluck the apple. You’ve severed
the connexion between, the apple and the tree: the organic
connexion. And if you’ve got nothing in your life BUT the
mental life, then you yourself are a plucked apple...you’ve
fallen off the tree. And then it is a logical necessity to be
spiteful, just as it’s a natural necessity for a plucked apple
to go bad.’

'You do believe in love then, Tommy, don't you?'

'You lovely lad!' said Tommy. 'No, my cherub, nine times out of ten,
no! Love's another of those half-witted performances today. Fellows
with swaying waists fucking little jazz girls with small boy buttocks,
like two collar studs! Do you mean that sort of love? Or the
joint-property, make-a-success-of-it, My-husband-my-wife sort of love?
No, my fine fellow, I don't believe in it at all!'

'It would almost be a good thing if you had a child by another man, he
said. 'If we brought it up at Wragby, it would belong to us and to the
place. I don't believe very intensely in fatherhood. If we had the
child to rear, it would be our own, and it would carry on. Don't you
think it's worth considering?'

Connie looked up at him at last. The child, her child, was just an 'it'
to him. It...it...it!

'But what about the other man?' she asked.

'Does it matter very much? Do these things really affect us very
deeply?...You had that lover in Germany...what is it now? Nothing
almost. It seems to me that it isn't these little acts and little
connexions we make in our lives that matter so very much. They pass
away, and where are they? Where...Where are the snows of
yesteryear?...It's what endures through one's life that matters; my own
life matters to me, in its long continuance and development. But what
do the occasional connexions matter? And the occasional sexual
connexions especially! If people don't exaggerate them ridiculously,
they pass like the mating of birds. And so they should. What does it
matter? It's the life-long companionship that matters. It's the living
together from day to day, not the sleeping together once or twice. You
and I are married, no matter what happens to us. We have the habit of
each other. And habit, to my thinking, is more vital than any
occasional excitement. The long, slow, enduring thing...that's what we
live by...not the occasional spasm of any sort. Little by little,
living together, two people fall into a sort of unison, they vibrate so
intricately to one another. That's the real secret of marriage, not
sex; at least not the simple function of sex. You and I are interwoven
in a marriage. If we stick to that we ought to be able to arrange this
sex thing, as we arrange going to the dentist; since fate has given us
a checkmate physically there.'

' ...But you do agree with me, don't you,
that the casual sex thing is nothing, compared to the long life lived
together? Don't you think one can just subordinate the sex thing to the
necessities of a long life? Just use it, since that's what we're driven
to? After all, do these temporary excitements matter? Isn't the whole
problem of life the slow building up of an integral personality,
through the years? living an integrated life? There's no point in a
disintegrated life. If lack of sex is going to disintegrate you, then
go out and have a love-affair. If lack of a child is going to
disintegrate you, then have a child if you possibly can. But only do
these things so that you have an integrated life, that makes a long
harmonious thing. And you and I can do that together...don't you
think?...if we adapt ourselves to the necessities, and at the same time
weave the adaptation together into a piece with our steadily-lived
life. Don't you agree?'

Here's to my suicidal dreams!

Currently searching for a way out. Unsure of how or when it'll happen. Will it happen? I've been trying for almost 10 years.

When I look inside

When I look inside and into my past I see that nothing has changed. I'm still that naive little girl who never learnt to grow up.

"In youth we learn; in age we understand."

It feels like the opposite for me.

I have no place in my family

I have a myriad reasons to dislike my cousin, but there's only one reason to explain why I hate her.

My siblings treat her like she's their own. When it comes to me I may as well be a complete stranger, or even a slave.

If I died tomorrow they wouldn't bat an eyelid.  If she died they would feel a hole in their hearts.

She makes them laugh. I make them cry.

When she's having issues they all jump on board to help her sort it and they'll have the same conversation with her over and over and over again. When it comes to me I'm left to do it all on my own. They refuse to help.

When she's around I'm no one. She has a better relationship with my dad than I do. She can speak to my mum like I can't.  She can make my siblings laugh. I can't make them smile, never mind making them laugh.

I have no place in this family. She has a greater effect on my family than I do.

FAQ 8: Why am I so alone?

I've never had anyone. My siblings were never siblings to me. They've always been my parents. My parents have never been parents to me, they've always been strangers. I've never had friends around who cared enough to stick around, I've never had friends who wanted to be my friends, full stop. The only person I ever loved was my first boyfriend but he just left without saying a word six weeks after we got together.

I snap at my mum a lot because a lot of what she says/does feels like an attack. There's only been one time in the last 19 months (since she's been at home full time) that she acted like a mum to me. I've never had a mum. My sister's adamant that I'm the villain in our relationship but she has no idea. All I want is for someone to care for me and someone to be a mum to me. I just want someone to hug me and to tell me that it's all okay. I've never had that.

I run into the arms of any man who takes me because at least they'll have me. I'm a human repeller. People can't stand me. There isn't one person in this world who likes me for me. Every time I think I found a place of belonging I'm always proven wrong. It's just not meant to happen. I'm just not meant to be happy? Why am I even alive? I'm a waste of air in this world. I'm a waste of life. Why was I given this life to live when I hate it? I don't want to live anymore. I can't do it.

I think I might be pregnant. If I am I'm not getting rid of this baby. I've had 19 months (since my last pregnancy scare) to think about what I would do if I were in this position again.

Feeling an overwhelming sadness.

No one wants me. I'm pretty my own mum hates me. I feel obliged to care for my nephew because she (mum) can't do it well, so I can't go out and have fun/meet guys. I really need some fucking male attention.

Stripping

I want to go into stripping. It would be a lot more difficult than being a call girl but I think I'd enjoy it.

Obviously in my current living situation (under my Muslim family's roof where my curfew is 8pm in the summer and 7pm in the winter) I can't do that, but it's a plan if I'm ever kicked out.

My mum

I just heard my mum puke and had to deal with the aftermath without my siblings. I'm not used to seeing her ill even though she's been ill (with an undiagnosed illness) for all my life.

I can't stop crying. I'm so scared. When she was on the phone yesterday she kept saying she felt like she was going to die a few days ago because she was really ill and now I'm so scared. I'm a horrible daughter. I don't want her to go thinking that I'm her worst mistake.

I'm not ready to lose her. I'm so scared. I had to deal with this alone without any of my siblings around and I just didn't know what I was doing. I'm so scared. It's like a huge wake up call. For the first time in a long time I actually wish her loud voice (when she plays with my nephew) wakes me up in the morning.

Child pornography is a real thing

Tonight's post isn't about me. As you can obviously tell from the title it's about child pornography,  or "cp" as some like to censor it. It's almost as if saying the words child pornography make people feel scared and shameful. Wanna know what I feel? Guilt. It kills me knowing that there are so many kids out there suffering such a horror. It puts me off having my own children because there could be a slight chance that one day - God forbid - if they get kidnapped their fate could end in cp.

I don't like being alone.

I realised it just now. I mean I've always known it but it never hit me. I don't like being alone. I really hate feeling lonely.

"You have attachment issues."

My friend told me this today. I haven't seen her in 18 months and suddenly she came out with this. I think we were talking about the guys I've [almost] been with and something else along those lines and it just amazed me that it was so obvious to her.

Have I ever complained about my family here?

I feel like I don't commend them enough.

They're the greatest people in the world. I don't know how they put up with me but they do it. They even tame me. If it wasn't for them I'd have gone crazier than I already am. That kind of crazy is the kind which goes way past the point of no return.

Ahahaha I knew I liked Buffy for a reason.

The Borderline Personality Disorder Test

"Keep breaking what's been fixed a thousand times"

I have another blog! I always wanted to do this blog. Never have I had the motivation until now.

So here it is: fatnutjob.blogspot.com

It's a weightloss and thinspo blog. It's my journey. People with eating disorders, I'd advise you to not visit it. It could be a real trigger.

Apparently I'm overweight.

Surely not?

FAQ 7: I do it because I'm saying sorry.

I didn't realise I do much of what I do to say sorry. I'm going back to uni because it's my way of saying sorry to my dad that I'm a failure as a daughter. I constantly try to keep my kitchen clean because I want to say sorry to my mum for being a bad daughter. I spend almost too much time taking care of my nephew to say sorry to my sister that she had to deal with bring me up when I was a child. I take on the house shopping and strive to get a job because it's my way of saying sorry to my other sister that she ended up with that role. I haven't got the money to spend on house shopping yet still I do it. As for my brother, well, I don't see him enough to do things like this for him - instead I strive to maintain our relationship and strive to converse with him - that's something I have only done for a handful of people in my life.

It's already working. Also, if you're scarred by that other picture of me, here's a better one.

I almost couldn't eat cake today. I've had a biscuit, one piece of chocolate and later made custard to have with two last slices of cake. I spent the entire day picturing my disgusting. waist so that helped put me off. Plus it's the first time in I don't know how long where I didn't have chocolate for breakfast!

When I was having the cake and custard I felt disgusting. This means I got somewhere today! Yay me! Hopefully I'll finally stop binge eating. I hate myself for doing it. It makes me feel even more disgusted with myself than I usually am.

FAQ 6: The "Eating Disorder Questionnaire", or mini FAQ's

Or as I like to call it: 'The How Fucking Crazy Am I? Questionnaire'

Name:

Age: 19

Gender: F

Height: 5’2

Starting Weight:  145lbs

Current Goal weight: 125lbs

Ultimate Goal weight: 115lbs

Lowest weight: 140

Highest weight: 180

Favorite Diet food: Scrambled egg and baked beans

Favorite Binge Food: Biscuits

Favorite exercise: Yoga

Does anyone know? Nope. Two friends but they may have forgotten.

What makes you slip up? Loneliness, insecurity, shame, desiring attention

Something nice for a change.

I have always slightly loved him.

Anorexia music

It's like an anorexia series.

Here's some of the music I was speaking about in "Welcome back, anorexia! Pt. 1".

Welcome back, anorexia! Pt. 2

So, why is she anorexic? I hear you ask. Because I was bullied, because I was insecure, because I wanna be pretty. I have narcissistic tendencies. I never realised it until recently, but my god, do I have great narcissistic tendencies! I want to be pretty. I want to stand out. I love the fact that pervs have a good look at me from top to bottom. I get off on it. I hate that guys I like don't look at me in the same way so I want to better myself for them. I want to be pretty for them. I want to fucking be loved. This is the only way I know to get attention and it's the only way I know how to get people to like me and accept me so I'm fucking sorry if I'm harming myself, I just want to be liked.

Welcome back, anorexia! Pt. 1

Have I ever spoken about my weight issues here? I can't remember doing so.

Without going into too much detail, I was a chubby child. I wasn't fat, I was simply chubby. I often got bullied by cousins, aunts, "friends" and strangers. When I was 10 years old a "friend" gave me a note saying these exact words: "you can't be my friend anymore because you're fat" and that was that. I screamed and cried and my dad got some powerful people involved. Nothing came of it, although my sister did go to school and threaten the bully. That was awesome.

FAQ 5: Do your family know about your mental health issues?

It's always difficult speaking to my family about my mental health. I suffer depression, which they know about, and borderline personality disorder which they don't know about. I also suffer anorexia (EDNOS in the DSM's pov, but I think the DSM is ridiculous) which, when they were aware of it, they would shout at me for having it, like it was my choice. They don't know I still suffer from it - they actually think I binge eat.

Telling them about the depression was easy - I simply Whatsapped my group with my siblings as soon as I was officially diagnosed and they just ignored it. They probably didn't believe me, or just figured I was being an overly sensitive drama queen. I've been suspecting it since I was 13 years old but I got the official diagnosis when I was 18. Telling them about the BPD is something that I can't imagine ever speaking about because they react to my mental health issues really inappropriately - they either shout at me or refuse to accept that there's anything wrong me. It's always "you're not mentally ill, you're just sensitive!" But they knows nothing of the real story. They have no idea what kind of life I lead when they're not around. They know the kind of mood swings I have aren't typical for girls my age (I'm 19), but they just blame it on hormones and my hypersensitivity to the world.

About the anorexia, well, the two times my sisters confronted me were probably the worst experiences I have ever had with them because they just shouted and shouted, and refused to accept that I wasn't in control of it. Over the last year I've managed to convince them that I binge eat so they've backed off.

I really want to be able to speak to them about it all. My eldest sister especially used to help me with my issues as a kid, but since I was 14/15 she just backed off and left me to deal with it all. It all eventually worsened. I can't speak to any of them because they just become completely irrational when it comes to mental health.

Some accurate shit

And don't I know it.

I haven't been posting as much as I should be.

I'm still alive. Completely forgot about the blog these last couple of weeks.. A lot has been going on with my general health so not fun at all. I've got a couple of FAQs that need answering so those are the priority at the moment. I'm hoping to write and post them by the end of next week, but it really depends on if I get better by then.

Have I ever told you how I'm a good liar? Part 1.

12 months ago I had just started going through a gradual and gruelling break up. 10 months ago I started working as a call girl. I was 18 years old and still in school. The best was that I was living under my Muslim family's roof. On one particular day I was with a client about 17 miles away from home in a part of London I had never been to before then. My sister called me at 6pm to ask where I was and I told her I was "less than half a mile away dropping my Muslim friends off at their homes because their parents want to make sure that they're not lying when they say they're with their friends -- their parents don't trust them." I got home an hour later and she didn't suspect a thing.

This is the summary of one of my very favourite memories. The longer story shall come on a day I remember to write it! Until then, ciao for now.

A typical day for le emotions.

Just a post I sent to someone on Reddit as a reply. They suffer bipolar, I'm suspecting myself on bipolar. It seemed too reflective on my "typical day" to let go. So here we are:

"I've been suspecting myself of having bipolar but I'm waiting to change doctors until I can discuss seeing a therapist to look into it further. Although I do have BPD, from my own personal research I think "bipolar borderline" would be a better classification but I need to see a therapist before I begin to determine anything.

Just a note on my posts

Currently feeling somewhat sane (read: depressive yet rational).

Many of my melancholic posts are/will be written during my depressive episodes. I feel obliged to mention that I'm not always like that, it's only when I'm alone or left to my self or when I'm experiencing that "in a crowd yet still feel aloneness" sort of thing. I've had a few emails from some of you stating your concern(s) and I can't help but thank you enough for it -- it's so much more than my own family and friends do so thank you for showing me some hope in this desolate world I'm living.

"About Me" Part 1

My "About Me" page needs an update. These posts shall be my attempt in doing that.

We could say this entire blog is about me. It isn't. It's about my mind. My "innermost thoughts", as people like to call it. Or, "the real me". Truth be told, there is no real me. I don't know who "me" is. When I see similar traits of myself in others is when I can see a part of me, but never can I see me. When I look into the mirror, I feel fear -- "me" becomes real.

I always wondered whose life mine would emulate. I always hoped 'The Number 23' would occur with me because life's spoilers are awesome. Two years ago I was studying A Streetcar Named Desire. Entirely thrown off by the title, I didn't pay any attention until my class and I had a little analytical mindgasm over character Blanche DuBois. Never did I realise she is me. My 'Number 23' is Streetcar. I'm just hoping the end comes for me as quick as it did for Blanche.

Feeling sorry for myself

I have no self worth. I've spent so much time convincing myself otherwise in the past but now i realise it might be rapid cycling or the borderline's equivalent of that.

There are times when I feel like I'm on top of the world and times like now where I become a depressive I never knew existed within myself.

When I feel on top of the world is when even the most insignificant good thing happens to me. When I feel like this I convince myself that I am a confident person. I have a tendency to brag about it because I think if I show people that I'm confident then maybe they'll feel the same about themselves too. I'm hyperdependent on the smaller things in life because they're all I've got.

I don't have many friends. I don't know if I have any friends left. "Me, myself and I" is an understatement. I don't even have me because my mental illness just makes me so fucked out of my mind. I'm a fucking screw up.

I constantly ask myself how did I turn out to be like this. Truth be told, I have no fucking idea. I've always been a recluse. I've always been the weird kid that nobody wanted and the people that took her on felt forced to take her on -- they didn't want me. Nobody fucking wants me. The only people I have are my family because we're bound by blood. If my mum didn't give birth to me then even they wouldn't want me.

I'm just waiting for death to come wash over me. Hopefully I can find some peace then.

Remember when love was simply an ideal you could feel via music?

I used to be infatuated with the idea of love. I went to an all girls school during the earlier part of my teenage years so an unfortunate teacher because the object of my affections, or the medium through which I could exhibit my obsession.

Coming up to a year since I was raped.

As much as I like to blame myself or my ex about what happened to me, I've also started to put a lot of the blame on this particular moment. I think it was the 14th. I honestly can't remember which is weird for me because I'm the girl who remembers every date of every significant (personal) event. A huge part of me doesn't want to remember but an even bigger part of me wants to put myself through the torture of having my imagination repeat the day, hour to hour. I did that at the end of last month -- a year since I lost my virginity.