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photography, Kitti, art, me, kink

Kitti, the Unstoppable Hex Machine

...and a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries...

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Emotional Masochism?
photography, Kitti, art, me, kink
Why do I continue to torture myself?
What is it that makes me totally obsessed with a person that I can't be with? Well.. I could be, if I chose to be, but I just can't deal with the celibacy thing. Sex is far more important to me than love (and yes, I know that's not normal and I have issues. Go tell someone that cares)
I guess I just wish that he could be kinda celibate, and also happy with the polygamy thing. That would rock. Everybody wins! Unfortunately, I'm not sure "everybody wins" situations even actually exist.

I continue to plague myself (using fucking Facebook, of all tools) seeing what an amzing time he's having with his "best friend" [uber controlling skank], and just hating myself for leaving... then hating myself even more for being addicted to sex and allergic to commitment, and therefore unable to love in any true capacity.

Maybe I should have just stayed locked up when I was 15, instead of lying and decieving my way out of there when I wasn't truly sorry, or less suicidal at all. I'm still not, in fact... I've just become a fuck of a lot more realistic.

Why do I feel like I'm in love with him, if he isn't everything I want?
Why do I feel so epicly strongly about someone who wasn't even that torn up when I gave him the "let's be just friends" talk, and not so strongly about a man who obviously adores me and would do absolutely anything for me? Am I completely and totally backwards? Why do I always ALWAYS choose the pain and struggle, over the pleasure and ease?

Most importantly... why did I even entertain the thought of real love again? Love's never, ever done me good. It has always hurt and changed me into a person I despise - a jealous, suspicious person. A person that hates, deeply. I hate this friend of his for originally turning him down as a boyfriend and then becoming his best friend. I hate her for being more important to him than I was, and I hate that she knows this, gets off on it, and uses it to manipulate him. I hate that she is aware of his aversion to sex and realising that becoming his friend was a much better idea than becoming his girlfriend, and I hate most that I didn't see that too.
Moreover, I hate myself for hating her, for all these reasons.
I hate that I have allowed myself to hate again.
I hate that it's keeping me from sleep.

Chuck Palahniuk was right. The one you love, and the one who loves you are never, ever, the same person.

I need to get over this, already. I have this amazing boyfriend, who lets me run around the country being hurt and adored by deviants, and still allows me to come home to him, and looks after me. Why this obsession for a silly musician that doesn't even want to fuck me, and wants to keep me from the spontaneous and rather brilliant things I'm experiencing currently?
I don't understand myself on this one, and that is why it's so difficult for me to let it go! If I knew why I feel this way, I could cut it off at the source.

All I am, all I have ever been (since about aged 9) is a fucked up little addict... and miles away, in my fair city, is a person who is willing to give me the world, and accepts me for the head case that I am. Sex addict, attention whore, almost permanently inebriated, commitmentphobe, idiotic masochist, self harmer, dormant suicidal tendencies with lingering histrionic flashbacks, bipolar, and probably, most likely PTSD. All this I am, and all this he loves.
I must be a fucking idiot to not want to be with him every second - but I just don't.

I hate that, too.

All I want is to live fast. It's all I've ever wanted. Most of the reason I want to lose weight is so I can start exotic dancing again. This life is for me, and I am of it. Perhaps that's why I always go for the pain. I have always belonged to chaos.

K xxx