No good juicy secrets here.

I have decided to love people more freely without limitations or titles. I don’t care what that entails; eventually some one will want to settle down with me. I might do a little work to pull someone in; um the universe will pull the right person in? Uh huh. I wonder who it is; I need to be floppy love right now. I want a cuddler and a cook. I want someone like Brett. Actually after partying with the “Hippies” last night I realized he is the only real “Hippie” that I know. I want an old man or a girl that’s never been with any other girls. I need to call Michelle tomorrow. I flaked on her the other night, I do that. I am really horny, and I have been lately, but it’s not like a hurt me, hurt me horny it’s like a I want some real love sex that makes me cry. Seems like people don’t do that anymore. I am a chubber. People like the chubbier strippers. I don’t know why this is secret and why I am putting in my secret “mean” journal. I guess I don’t feel all that “mean tonight. I do know Joey hurt my feelings a whole lot and I know he was just making stabs at me to hurt me but It kind of made me want to throw myself out of a window.

Shut up hipster slut.

It’s late. And I don’t know if I am going to able to communicate this the way I want to, but I am wired and I might as well try. It has been brought to my attention, that people are under the impression that I am an idiot that is obsessed with her self. I don’t deny being narcissistic in the least, however I think the misconception lies in the fact that some may have been led to believe I am “image obsessed” by unreliable sources.

The people who I have noticed may hold these opinions about me have but one thing in common and that happens to be a woman who has seen too many cocks in her day.

cheesy title here (for best results, use CAPS)

Awake at noon. Awake, awake, awake, alone. Unsatisfied, forget it and move forward. Put it on a graph and scientifically explain it, it couldn’t have happened any other way. This is what I do.

I sent that email. Ok it was a message that bled out of my soul in the rawest form, and this roll in the dough tells me its all image based. That I am too obsessed with how I look. I detest! I am no more interested in how I look than the next woman. The self-worth/gain attributed to my physical appearance; well that’s a symptom of a greater issue.

My Issue is this… and untreated emotional illness that won’t let off. I want to aspire for new things but how could I? How could I wish, hope, and succeed without separating these polar instincts, at best?

Nathan told me there is someone else he wants to be with. He won’t tell me who they are. He’s hiding things from me. He’s not giving me the whole truth. He tells me this over dinner. He tells me he isn’t in love with me. I wasted all of this time, and that secure love from Brett, for this. I am not sure how I don’t just cause myself to die without action. Thought buries my heart and if I don’t quit it will be all over soon.

I need a new topic.

This will be the truth, the whole truth, so help me...

I just woke up like 5 minutes ago in shear terror. I fooled myself into some false type of comfort again, I built up this easygoing wall of “I can feel way and I can hide behind this, no one has to know.” No I can’t. noicant. You don’t know how it feels, but then again why should you know? This is my bag right? I brought this into existence, and lord knows I don’t know how to chase it away. I am terrified right now, up here in this stupid room. An empty room. I can’t fill this house with anything; I don’t have it in me.

I can’t handle shaking these guilty hands over this keyboard, but I have to. I have to charge it all out “on to paper’ so to speak, so after I am done, I can press delete once again on the word pad and patch up my wounds once again, no not all the St. John Wart in the world can handle this. I WANT TO BE HAPPY NOW! I AM TIRED OF SITTING HERE, IN THIS HUMAN SHELL WITHOUT YOU. I can’t be happy without you, I try and nothing seems right or meant to be. This is the worst sensation I could ever hope to feel. I want to talk to you, goddamnit and see you and love you and hold you and scream at these demons to leave me alone. How can I be feeling all of this when I did it to myself? Stop it Jessicaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

I don’t want to drown out any light that I might have left in this soul. I know at some point I must have been happy. And I go back a read old journals and it seems now that you were everything that has made me happy ever. I can’t even grasp the whole fact of you being with someone else. I can’t see it in my brain, if I did it would be suicide.

I know at this point that there is not really any chance of you loving me again like you used to or being with me and yet I lie and hope that maybe in a year or two that something will click inside of you and you will feel these strong growls in the pit of your soul and find me. I just want to make more awesome and exciting memories with you as your best friend and lover, why is that so fucking bad? Who else am I supposed to turn to after this long? WHO. No one can offer any support.

I am sorry I wrote this now. Because the true pain I feel stabbing within me every second of the day since I realized what I have done just keeps getting worse and I want to scream at you or anybody else about it but I need to just turn on the bathroom lights and scream at me.

Love,
Jesse

P.S. I am sorry this makes me obsessive and psycho.