CFC, Freud, and a Fiancé

Noor
You don't have to read this, I'm just PMSing and need to vent a little bit... I feel like writing a mountain of things and letting it all out. In case I do that, once again, know that you don't have to read it. I'm just feeling bad today. Not too sure why. I mean, I think the thing is it's not one BIG thing, it's like 12 little things. These circumstances, I guess, can lead one to being confused about what the actual source of the problem is. And in the end, it's prolly just PMS.
I'm gonna be random in my form of telling you the stuff going on in my mind... I guess so I can give a more genuine conveyance - I don't feel like this should be told in story form, with an intro, a body, and a conclusion -, and also because I don't feel like using story form. Two slightly different reasons.
Noor... I dunno, I feel kind a scared. I always feel kinda scared. Like I'm going to fall apart. Like I need to control every little thing, for example, on my body, or else I will slowly become a monster, in terms of ugliness. That leads me to picking myself, picking my skin, picking my face, picking everything I can pick on me... And consequently I have all these scabs and scars on me, on my face and on my body. My mom saw them today and she thinks I should go to a therapist, because I told her I want to stop, but I can't stop doing it. I want to help myself be able to STOP with this stupidity, so I agreed with her therapist idea, in theory. The thing is, I've had a total of one year of therapy in my life, with two different professionals... And both experiences were annoying and frustrating, and must have been genuinely helpful like two sessions. But I want help!, and I feel that help CAN be obtained through psychology. I was reading this book on Freud, and I feel like he could have helped me. Because he was the real thing. I feel like, according to the experiences I've had, modern-day therapy is like GOSSIP, like "Oh, wow, then what did your mom reply?" Like FUCK YOU, who cares, what matters is the meaning behind. Freud used this method called free word association, where the patient with a neurosis would answer with whatever words that came to their minds to specific relevant questions he would ask. AND, he would use their dreams, too. Anyway, the bottom line is... I'm tired of hurting myself. My mom said I look like I've been punched in the face. And I, sort of mindlessly, said "Well, in a way, I did punch myself in the face." I'm scared because I think that I keep pulling, scratching, ripping things I consider imperfections off myself to find some kind of RELIEF. And to feel like I'm CLEANSING or RIDDING myself of something. I don't know what! I don't know why I have to be so anxious... I don't even consider myself too anxious anymore, but when I see myself, I just want to change everything, I want trim this, lift that, pull in this, take out that... I just want to be beautiful. I just want to like myself. And the worst part is that I would probably be a lot more beautiful and like myself better if I just left myself alone. Hell, if I stopped HURTING myself! Not even the PAIN I endure in maiming myself stops me from doing what I do!
I feel a little sorry for me now. I want me to be happy... and really like myself. I feel like crying, I wish I could cry. Maybe I will soon. It's hard to, though. But maybe it will bring me some relief. You must be wondering why I'm saying that it's hard to cry, ME, who's always been such a crybaby, hehe. I don't know. I tried to cry today. It didn't really work. I guess it's because I think about the future: if I cry, my nose will be stuffy and start running all over my face... I will make the weird crying sounds that I make that always sound so stupid to me, and then I question myself, thinking that I'm fake-crying, I'm only crying because I want some empathy, or I want to be dramatic. Fuck.
I wanna move on with the subject. I wanna say that I'm also scared of sex. In some religion, I cannot recall which, maybe Buddhism, it is believed that one should refrain from having any or too much sex because... when you have sex... you are GIVING a part of yourself AWAY to the other person. I don't remember if it was your "soul" you were giving away a bit of, or just "yourself", but I always think "yourself". I actually heard this junior year in ToK at GS. It's not even one of those phrases that "stayed" with me. I'd forgotten all about it; in fact, at the time I heard it, I'm almost sure I even thought it was a little ridiculous. The thing is, ever since I got back to Brazil and started having a LITTLE sex again... the way that I've been feeling in reaction to these occasions reminded me of this line. I would feel like I was emptier... like I'd given something of myself... then this line would come into my mind. I want to know if it's true. IS IT TRUE that when you have sex with someone, you're GIVING a part of yourself to this person forever? It doesn't seem to make sense - it's just a form of touch. Different forms of touch can mean different things, of course... but at the end of the day, it's all touch. Well, maybe not, actually. Our bodies mean a lot to us. The are/can be very symbolic. And they change the way we feel about ourselves and the world and the kind of people we grow up to be.
Man... Man...
I'm quite frightened. That's just how I feel, it's the feeling I have... fright. Even if I don't quite know of what.
I was having sex ("was having sex", PUH, I HAD sex twice with this guy I think I told you about) who's going to get married. The 1st time we went out, whatever, I didn't know. The second time, I did. I had chosen not to go out w/ him anymore after the 1st because of this, but I ended up changing my mind telling myself that we would both be just "using" each other. So the 2nd time we went, it was within a few days of his marriage - so we both knew this was the last time we were gonna see each other. It was the best sex I've ever had in my life, by the way.
But when he dropped me home, I don't know. Literally the minute I left his car and walked to the front gate of my mother's house, as he waited in the car for me to actually get inside, it started to rain hard. I feel crazy because I feel like I liked him SO much, even though I only saw him THREE times, and he's an engineer - not usually my kind of guy. I felt like it was SO unfair that we could NEVER see each other again, even though we'd liked each other so much - it's one thing when there is a conflict between you and your guy... but the obstacle had nothing to do with either of us. Why did I like him so much? Am I incapable of distinguishing sex and (let's just call it) love? And if I am, why are men able to? I shouldn't have liked him. I wish I hadn't liked him. I don't really understand... Why was he even WITH me? Why didn't he just get with a hooker...? Man, he must actually be a big jerk - I mean, outside the obvious reasons for which he might be found to be one. How can someone just come into your life like that, and then leave forever? I NEVER fuck guys I don't know. THAT'S how much I liked him. I don't even like it when people I don't know TOUCH me. NO, I don't even like it when people I don't know TALK to me. In general. So much so that I'd blown him off the first time we talked!
How can he just get married? Wouldn't he remember me at his wedding? Or afterwards? Isn't it weird that like 2 or 3 nights before his marriage, he was fucking some other girl? And getting married won't make anyone LESS attracted to other people - it can only make people TRY harder NOT to be attracted to other people; that's what it sounds like he's going to do. He said that if he'd met me after his wedding, he wouldn't have tried to get with me. But that doesn't seem to make too much sense either... He'd still find me attractive and want to fuck me, whether he did something about it or not. I mean, what?, he would just TRY HARDER to PRETEND that the only person he wants is his WIFE? WHAT THE FUCK! And then I keep thinking about like if I ever plan on getting married - how will I know what I'm getting myself into? No one normal can know where someone else is 24 hrs a day. It just seems so weird to me that he's going to put on a black tuxedo, smile at his bride's parents and other family members, smile at his own family, wait at an altar, smile at his bride, say "I DO", smile and nod, smile and nod, in some big fancy church FULL of expensive decorations and fancy music and tables with weird-colored tablecloth and many, many huge bouquets of FLOWERS in EVERY corner... All that money, all those flowers, all those pastel colors, all that pretending sex doesn't exist, the dishonesty, all the weird cheesiness... And then after the party he'd take her home and fuck her. And probably think about me for at least a split second. 'Cause I was the last crazy experience he had. I was the last girl he fucked - not his wife. And we had very intense and delicious sex, especially for him - it was obvious he couldn't get enough of me. Sexually, he was more into me than I was into him. Noor, it seems so weird, maybe even sick and fucked up too. I don't know WHY this doesn't make sense to me. I mean it should, it's the simplest logic in the world: one man wants to spend the rest of his life with one woman, the woman he loves. But, just to enjoy himself more, sexually, he has a few meaningless and purely sexual affairs on the side. Girls he tosses aside afterwards.
I don't know. It's weird. I wish I hadn't felt tossed aside. I thought I would be okay with never being able to see him again. But I guess it just didn't make sense to me, in the end.
It made me even wonder a lot about what love is. If it's something real. If it really exists. How it's (most likely) SUBJECTIVE (the scariest thought). And actually, even scarier a thought, how I want to FIND it. I want to find something that I'm not even sure what it is?! I yearn for something I don't know!? How fucked up is that! So much for being born into the world and just surviving and being able to be happy with yourself and/or whatever else you already came with!
Noor, I feel so weird, like I don't want to be alone, and at the same time I do.
I feel tired.
Tired of learning. Tired of pursuing. Tired of making wrong turns. Tired of having to go back and start up aaaalll over again from scratch. Tired of waiting, changing, having to TRY SO DAMNED HARD.
Tired of feeling bad. Tired of being condemned. Tired of things not matching up.
Tired.
I think I'll end here...
I need to stop and rest and... well, I wish I could cry.
I would cry long, hard, and beautifully if I could. For all the sorrows of this world, for all the sorrows I've gulped down in attempt to contain myself.
I hope your interview, which obviously went well, went well. You're totally getting into Brown, in my humble opinion. You're from AFGHANISTAN, if nothing else! And you have an adorable voice, if REALLY nothing else! Hehehe.
Thank you, if you did read this whole thing and make it down here to the bottom.
I don't feel better, but I'm glad I put it all down to you. I didn't even say everything, the rest is even more puzzling.
Whatever, I should go.
I love you Noor
You're one of the best people I know in the whole world.

Wanting Something Badly

he'll come tomorrow
I'll talk to him. I'll apologize for having been all over him w/ his boyfriend right next to him. He'll say it's all right. I'll asky why he didn't come today, Monday. He'll say that it's because he and his boyfriend broke up. I'll be like flabbergasted and ask why and say I hope I have nothing to do with it. He'll say that they broke up because he thinks I'm so awesome and cool that he wants me.

Proof of the Efficiency of Cursinho

you're like a song stuck in my head that I don't get to listen to anymore


Funny and slighty sad comparative truths

1) Children aren't always shorter than adults
2) Women aren't always lighter than men
3) Sibling aren't always equally beautiful
4) Older people aren't always smarter than younger people
5) Older people aren't always bigger than younger people
6) Fame causes unpretentious people to look pretentious
7) Beauty is subjective
8) I don't know
9) There's always something you don't sense. Even if you feel like you're thinking of absolutely everything, and you're trying your hardest to do so, there's always something you simply cannot reach.


Isn't it a good thing that I love difficulties