Writers block. First hours. Then days. Then months. I'll get back to it. I'm taking a break. Then years.

I buy a notebook.

I stare at it.

It collects dust.

I read others novels.

I despise their success.

I want what they have.

I want to be an unknown. An anonymous. Speaking emotion through words typed on a screen. I want others to FEEL WHAT I FEEL.

See what I see. Why I see it.

But where do I start?

I can't start. I won't start.

I'm no good anymore.

No one cares what I have to say.

Its been years. Its been months. Its been days, its been hours.

Fucking writers block.

Sometimes the world just doesn't make sense

Everything is jumbled, everything's a mess

Chains around my wrist

raw, bleeding, burning.

But who put these chains here?

I did.

I'm stuck in a life I never wanted.

I never asked for this.

Nothing makes me happy, nothing makes any fucking sense.

I feel like my reality, is not what everyone else sees.

I see death.  I see blood.  I see torture.  I see the bad in everyone.

But I see the good in everyone.  Because you're supposed to 'try to'.

I do good, because that's what you're 'supposed to do'.

But do I want to?

No.

I took a drag of my Camel No. 9 menthol as I walked through the yard of my new college in Philadelphia.  I was a freshman, and I was riper than a peach.  If I wasn't too busy sucking nicotine into my throat I would probably smell the weed that was floating through the air as I walked by the drum circle in the middle of the lawn.  This was not one of those cool city schools you go to on the weekends to party, it was a hippy-dippy design school, for all the cast out stoners from all over the tri-state area.  I, however, was not a stoner and I definitely was not a loner stand in the shadows kind of girl.  I was pretty, and so were my friends.  Not just the pretty in the face long blonde hair kind of girls.  We were party girls, newly finding our drug addictions and loving the sexual fantasies grown men played in their heads as we walked by.  I was excited to be out of my home town and find new boys to torment into loving me, just so I could ignore them a week later.

 So, as I'm walking to the cafeteria, that's when I see him.  He is not the kind of guy I would normally go for, considering he's riding a skateboard with long shaggy hair.  But he looked at me and I looked at him and at that moment I had to have him.  He was tan, and skinny, with an ease about him that I just could not resist.  I myself am filled with anxiety that screams from the inside of my brain, but you would never know by the way I presented myself.  So I always tried to put myself around people who were a little crazy, very outgoing, and that I could easily destroy.  This made me feel better about my constant state of insecurity.

I ask around and find out his name.  It's Paul.  And like any proactive 18 year old girl, I find his facebook, I read up on him, and find out who his friends are.  I then find out if their friends know my friends.  This is how millenials do things by the way, we don't just walk up to a stranger and ask them out.  We do our research and use our handy dandy social media accounts that make us look cool to attract the opposite sex.  So I reach out to my friends, who reach out to his friends, and as day turns to night and my clothes get less and less, we head to the bar.  We all obviously have fake IDs and what better way to initiate a conversation with a total stranger than to drink yourself silly first?  At least, that's how I did things.

  Fast forward to the bar.  It's called Moda and it is a hole in the wall piece of shit in Olde City Philadelphia.  They were big fans of the underage crowd, because all we did was spend mommy and daddy's money on expensive drinks at their establishment.  They had stairs leading to a top floor, that made you feel even more intoxicated as you walked up.  As you turn the corner to the upper level, there are about 10 beds with beaded comforters, red sequins, and stains from God knows who.  To compliment this beautiful scene, they play hardcore porn on every TV upstairs.  Gotta love Philadelphia.  

   As my eyes drift from a girl getting slammed by some guy on the television, I see Paul.  I walk up to him, filled with lust and we start talking.  Turns out he's from upstate New York and he likes to rap.  Those two things turned me off completely, but the next thing we talked about spiked my interest.

Paul is a virgin.  He is a christian through and through and does not believe in sex until after marriage.  This to me, was absolutely insane.  I started having sex young, and have been with more than one person obviously, so to hear that someone hasn't even given it a try before college was beyond me.  I had to change that.

As the night went on I fed him drink after drink, as I myself got completely hammered.  He went on and on about his ex girlfriend how all they did was fool around, sometimes when they felt really freaky she would rub herself on his arm as if it was his dick.  I tried to not hear any of this but it was really hard not to.  Curiosity of the unknown got the best of me and I have yet to unhear that in my brain for the last 10 years.

As midnight rounds the corner, it's time for me to drag this guy home and do my best to get his pants off.  I keep telling him how I'll change his mind about waiting until marriage, I won't tell anybody, everyone does it.  In the back of my head I know this is wrong, completely and utterly wrong.  For me to think it was okay to take a persons morals and principles and put a condom on them was not the best idea.

Let's just say, I was punished severely.  By God, or the Devil.

We get back to Paul's dorm and it's filled with tye dye and bongs.  We are so drunk we barely make it to the bed.  We start fooling around and low and behold, Paul's higher power blessed him with a huge amenity.  What a waste, I thought to myself.

I finally break him into sleeping with me.  I don't remember much of it, but I do remember he seemed more experienced than I expected.  Maybe he spent half the night in Moda watching the porno TVs.  The next morning I wake up in his twin bed and I feel like death.  I immediately have to throw up from all the shitty mixed drinks I had the night before, so I run to the bathroom on his floor.

I realize how badly I have to pee, and all of a sudden a shooting pain is ripping through my abdomin and there is blood everywhere.  It hurts so bad I can't even move to go back to my own room.  I start calling my friends who live on Paul's floor.

My best friend answers and comes to my rescue.  She is about 90 lbs and still high on oxy from the night before.  She puts me under her arm and hides me under a hoodie while calling my roommate.  My roommate was the complete opposite of us.  She did not like drugs, she had a boyfriend, and she was just all around prissy.  So she calls an ambulance because it seems like the right thing to do.  I still hate her for that, because our whole campus saw me leave this kid's dorm room and go right into an ambulence.

Turns out, Paul's virgin ass gave me a UTI.  And my period.  All at once.  I was in so much pain I had to rip an oxy as soon as I got back from the shitty Philly hospital I was taken to.  As the sun goes down I decide to walk to my friends dorm, the same building as Paul's.  And who do I see in the doorway? Paul making out with another holy roller, Mary.  I laughed out loud.  In that moment,  I knew I was from the other side.  I was the devil and God laughed and laughed as I took my antibiotics, writhing in pain, after taking the virginity of one of his soldiers.  I have never been with another virgin again.