I had a fling a couple of months ago with a guy I knew and liked - we didn't want to be in a relationship together, we didn't love each other, we were just getting to know each other in the most intimate way possible. I used to sneak him in when my parents were in bed because I knew they wouldn't have allowed him to stay over, us not being a couple and everything. From my parents' point of view, it was quite obvious as to why; some guy they hadn't known for long would be sleeping with their daughter, under their roof, in their house, and apparently according to my stepmother, I'm still the ten year old girl I was when my Dad and I knew each other better, not the nineteen year old sex-craving young women that I've grown into. However knowing this (I heard them arguing about it), and putting myself in their position, I still think it's unfair that I can't just casually have guys over. If teenagers can't have sex in their own houses, they'll most likely be doing it wherever else they can, such as in a cemetery for example, or in a dirty alley, or like you see in films, in club toilets. And when teenagers are sexually frustrated, they become moody and unpleasant to talk to - I have definitely become bitchier from my four month abstinence, and I feel less confident. Sex shouldn't be seen as anything sinister. Sex is art. It's a way of expressing your feelings for someone; it can be angry, passionate, fast, fun, whatever. Perhaps parents, most parents, have forgotten what it was like when they were young, that's all. At my age my Dad was on his second engagement and my stepmum was a drugged up junkie. I just thought I was being, I don't know... safe? We should be having sex all the time and stop being so uptight about it. Sex is liberating and we all like feeling free, with whomever it may be, we all have different tastes and sex-drives, and I believe that, being an adult, I have the freedom to do so and should be able to do as I wish. Oh yeah and it's free.
Friday, 7 June 2013
Wednesday, 5 June 2013
Ok, I've just realised that after my exam tomorrow afternoon, I'll have fifteen weeks of absolutely nothing to do until university. What if I go crazy? What if I put on loads of weight? I need a project.. There aren't any jobs going in Rothwell so that's out of the question. I can't even remember what my hobbies are. I've spent so long reading about the lives of characters in books, and hearing about other people's lives, that I've forgotten what I like. And you need money for everything. So I need something that's free and doesn't require travelling or at least two people. There is only one of me after all. Oh, I've already planned to learn Italian and German but I don't want to get obsessed or too into; it's nice to have variety. Hmm...
Pigs in Clothes
First of all, I'd like to ask: would you dress up a pig? A filthy selfish animal who stuffs its fat face, rolls about in gluttony, full from its dinner when all it does is sit around. What would be the point? It doesn't go anywhere, it has no friends to meet or greet, it has no sense of health, or of a different life than the sty, the hovel it lives in, no one to please, no goals to achieve. So, would you?
My parents have had three deliveries today, all clothes packages. Not too dear from the marks on the packages but the price adds up. Last week there were about three also. And the week before. Sometimes they're packages of shoes, boots, phone cases, whatever. Me? I haven't bought an item of clothing since February. A £2, reduced from £4, navy blue skirt from Age Concern, a charity shop. I wear it four times a week. My other clothes are threadbare, worn between the legs, the stitching and re-stitching both come undone, my vest tops have holes in from the four years I've been wearing them. It's easy to keep a track of the clothes you buy when you don't buy many. I'm still wearing the clothes I bought with my Christmas and birthday money three, four, five years ago. Of course I feel sorry for myself. I'm running out of everything and no matter how much time I spend in my underwear, my clothes are wearing out because I can't just sit around all day in the house. Of course I'm just moaning about my lack of clothes and shoes it would seem. Perhaps I'm just craving attention from my parents. I am. It's hard moving away from the mother you love, and have lived with for seventeen years, eleven of them without a father, to finally move in with your father, thinking perhaps he was to shy to make the first step, then realising that even after two years of living together, you haven't actually had a conversation, he still doesn't know the food you like, he doesn't know what studies you are taking, doesn't know your life's ambitions. He doesn't ask. Does he care? Is he too shy? Perhaps his wife will get jealous if he gets too close to you? Perhaps he doesn't know he has to. Maybe I expected too much, though he'd meet me halfway, I'm going off topic. Yes I am just another teenager moaning about her family life. I'm just sick of living here like a lodger and not being part of the 'family'. Not that I'd want to be. Then what are you moaning about? I don't know. Pigs in clothes. People having the things they don't deserve. Yeah ok, they work for a living, but if you have a fucking child, then you have to take fucking care of it. You have to take fucking care of them all and not just one. I'm so bitter and so jealous. I'm jealous of my parents' money, but not of the lives they lead. I'm jealous of the attention my nine year old stepbrother gets, the money he gets given to buy on sweets, the clothes he gets bought, his expensive Christmas and birthday presents, when I get fuck all. This may be the loneliest I've ever been. Living in a house with no love. Having self-centred, talkative, attention seeking, ignorant friends. Losing the one thing you love and live for, the place you could go once a week to feel you belonged somewhere. Having no one to tell this to, the only thing you could come up with being this. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate being bitter. I hate seeing people killing themselves slowly with food. I hate seeing pigs in clothes.
My parents have had three deliveries today, all clothes packages. Not too dear from the marks on the packages but the price adds up. Last week there were about three also. And the week before. Sometimes they're packages of shoes, boots, phone cases, whatever. Me? I haven't bought an item of clothing since February. A £2, reduced from £4, navy blue skirt from Age Concern, a charity shop. I wear it four times a week. My other clothes are threadbare, worn between the legs, the stitching and re-stitching both come undone, my vest tops have holes in from the four years I've been wearing them. It's easy to keep a track of the clothes you buy when you don't buy many. I'm still wearing the clothes I bought with my Christmas and birthday money three, four, five years ago. Of course I feel sorry for myself. I'm running out of everything and no matter how much time I spend in my underwear, my clothes are wearing out because I can't just sit around all day in the house. Of course I'm just moaning about my lack of clothes and shoes it would seem. Perhaps I'm just craving attention from my parents. I am. It's hard moving away from the mother you love, and have lived with for seventeen years, eleven of them without a father, to finally move in with your father, thinking perhaps he was to shy to make the first step, then realising that even after two years of living together, you haven't actually had a conversation, he still doesn't know the food you like, he doesn't know what studies you are taking, doesn't know your life's ambitions. He doesn't ask. Does he care? Is he too shy? Perhaps his wife will get jealous if he gets too close to you? Perhaps he doesn't know he has to. Maybe I expected too much, though he'd meet me halfway, I'm going off topic. Yes I am just another teenager moaning about her family life. I'm just sick of living here like a lodger and not being part of the 'family'. Not that I'd want to be. Then what are you moaning about? I don't know. Pigs in clothes. People having the things they don't deserve. Yeah ok, they work for a living, but if you have a fucking child, then you have to take fucking care of it. You have to take fucking care of them all and not just one. I'm so bitter and so jealous. I'm jealous of my parents' money, but not of the lives they lead. I'm jealous of the attention my nine year old stepbrother gets, the money he gets given to buy on sweets, the clothes he gets bought, his expensive Christmas and birthday presents, when I get fuck all. This may be the loneliest I've ever been. Living in a house with no love. Having self-centred, talkative, attention seeking, ignorant friends. Losing the one thing you love and live for, the place you could go once a week to feel you belonged somewhere. Having no one to tell this to, the only thing you could come up with being this. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate being bitter. I hate seeing people killing themselves slowly with food. I hate seeing pigs in clothes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)