Posts Tagged ‘sad’

Struggles of Females with High Sex Drives

So they say there are 10 struggles to being a woman with a high sex drive…

1. We have trouble finding a partner who can keep up.
2. We always have to initiate.
3. Our partners get lazy.
4. We get rejected.
5. We can’t always get what we want.
6. If we want something done, we have to do it ourselves.
7. We’re always the Samantha Jones of our friend group.
8. Society tries to shame us.
9. Men are confused by us.
10. We’re turned on by everything.

This is just a list right? So they say, but that really isn’t the deal. Normal people and nillas think that females with a high sex drive are myth, that we don’t exist, and honestly THAT alone sucks. It also sucks that you think because we have a high sex drive that we don’t get turned down, that we’re always satisfied, and that we’re just getting it like constantly. The truth of the matter is, unless you find someone that’s on par with your appetite you’re doing it yourself a lot, and you’re not always 100% happy in the sex department. It SUCKS! Seriously.

Thoughts on My Past

I sit here looking at the world and humanity and I’m not sure if I cry happy or sad tears. Humanity has always been filled with hate, and it seems that fact will not change any time soon. It saddens me to admit that. It makes my heart very heavy and sad, and makes me wonder if it will ever truly get better. I have never been a fan of labels and labeling ourselves to better fit into a box. However, I wear so many labels it seems, at least to the outside world, that I wonder if I could ever get away from them. My LABEL is Snow. I AM Snow. Nothing more, and nothing less; I am Snow.

 

I happen to be a part of the LGBTQ Community. I am a pansexual woman. What does that mean; to be pansexual? Pansexual: not limited in sexual choice with regard to biological sex, gender, or gender identity. I am attracted to a person, to a human, to the connection and THAT is what turns me on. Have I always been pansexual? I guess probably so, though I did not always realize it. When I first “came out” I said I was bisexual. I liked both men and women, but there are so many other humans that do not always fall into that category or just male or female.

 

I remember coming out almost too clearly. I was terrified I would lose every single person close to me. I was afraid I would lose my mother, my grandmother, and aunts, uncles, cousins, and anyone else. Do you know what happened? Some of those people I DID lose, but those that TRULY LOVE ME stayed by my side, and are still by my side supporting me. I remember telling my mother that if it bothered her I was attracted to females as well as males, and any other gender “type” that she was not WORTH my love. I think I truly shocked her with that statement. My mother said something to me that I will never forget. She told me that when I was born she held me in her arms and promised to always love, protect, respect, and guide me. That she would NEVER leave my side, and always be there. True to form, she always has been. My mother doesn’t care if I’m with a man, with a woman, with an asexual or a transgender or if I’m with a damn alien. She cares that I AM HAPPY and well-loved and well taken care of. THAT is what matters to my mother. That HER DAUGHTER is cared for, loved, and adored in the relationship that she is in. I have other family that feels that exact same way. I also have family members that think I’m disgusting, that I’m an abomination, and that I will be in hell if I don’t “save my soul”. Does it hurt me or bother me? Yes, it really does… but it doesn’t for the reasons you might think. When someone that shares the same blood with me, that “love” that we are supposed to have looks at me and tells me I’ll go to hell, that I’m a sick person for not being straight I hurt and I’m very bothered. It bothers me because they are so close minded that they are missing out on life. It hurts that they think everyone should fit into this neat little box and be a carbon copy of every single other person in the world. THAT is what hurts; that they are so closed up they can’t just allow someone else to have joy and happiness. Hell maybe they aren’t even really happy, so that’s why others shouldn’t be happy.

 

Even after coming out I spent so many moments terrified, though it wasn’t at first. No at first I lived my life and I didn’t care one way or another if anyone knew because I was OUT and I would NEVER be pushed back into that box, into that closet, where I would have to hide my true self. Then someone I thought was a friend thought he could “cure” me. He thought he could “fix” me, and make me straight. We were hanging out and having fun, of course we made out a little. Then he tried to push it further. I said no. He didn’t accept that, he forced me down against the couch, and while trying to fight him off of me we fell onto the cold tiles of the floor. He ripped my clothes to get at the things he wanted. He violated me in every single way he could. I remember he kept saying you know you like it, you like men too, you love this cock, I’ll fix you and then you’ll only want men. You won’t have to be perverted and disgusting and fuck girls too. I kept fighting him, kept trying to get away, and cried the entire time. He eventually left me there, curled up on the tile floor, clutching at any part of my ripped clothing I could get. I don’t know how long I was there until another friend found me. I remember thinking if sexuality worked that way, I’d never touch another male in my life, but I knew even then, deep down, that it doesn’t work that way. Yes one man raped me, but that didn’t make all men bad.

 

I continued on with my life. Still refusing to hide who I am, what I am, and while I have amazing memories I have some that are dark. Like being raped, and hurt, left broken and alone. I remember going out with a group of friends, friends that didn’t exactly question or know my sexuality. I remember all of us having this amazing day out hiking and taking in all the beauty around us. While in a cavern, a girl I had met up with while there had advanced. We started to make out and things got hot and heavy. We were young, and the passion overtook us. Of course we didn’t go too far being in public, but one of my ‘friends’ saw me making out with her before she left to go on her own way. I remember being cornered in that cavern, those people around me I thought were friends, spitting on me, telling me I was trash, and beating the hell out of me. I remember later picking leaves and dirt out of my hair, I remember taking little pieces of rock and dirt out of my skin.

 

I still continued on with my life. Though each and every time I was hurt, that violence was projected toward me, I grew a little more terrified. I thought so many times that perhaps I was safer in the box, to go back into the closet, say I’d been cured and start to hide who I was all over again. But… I am Snow. I am too pigheaded for my own good, and too blunt to be stopped. I could have run and hidden in the box again, away from society and the world, but life is too short. Too short to hide, too short to not take full advantage of enjoying each moment I am given in this world.

 

Then there are major attacks on the LGBTQ community, major attacks of hate and violence, and those attacks make me shiver in terror again. Will I hide again? NO. I will never again hide who I am, but I have grown cautious about every single thing around me. I am aware of where I am, who I am with, and I put every single thing in prospective to keep myself safe. That isn’t always enough though, and I understand that. Hate is all around us unfortunately, but it is up to us to stand against it; to be pigheaded and say NO MORE.  Hate is through every single thing not just sexuality. It is against religion, sexuality, the color of our skin, the color of our hair, our lifestyles, our eating habits, the cars we drive or don’t drive. People HATE what they don’t understand and that is where it needs to just stop. So WHAT if you don’t understand, just move the hell along. It doesn’t hurt you; it has nothing to DO WITH YOU. Just… just let it go.

 

The saddest part of it all though is that I personally didn’t come out only once. I had to again and again when it came to my sexuality, my religion, and my lifestyle choices. Each time weeding out those I thought cared, to make room for those that truly deserve to be in my life.

I’m Not Real??

So lately I’ve been talking to this “dom”. I say it that way for various reasons, and they will become clear as I write this. So just bear with me. Now we have only talked because he lives out of state, but he does travel quite a bit, which also brings him to Ohio through the year. So I decided ok, give it a chance and see what might happen.

Red Flag One: He’s married, and his wife doesn’t know. I was called out on the fact I felt uneasy with this because I had told him before I’d slept with married men. One of my play partners IS a married man, however he is poly and I’m pretty sure his wife AND girlfriend know he’s doing whatever and that he comes over.

Red Flag Two: When I started talking to him it was under the premise that he would be submissive and I Domme roles. To which he’s very quickly reversed around since he found out more about my different sides.

Red Flag Three: Today I get an email demanding a task from me, and asked about anal and fisting. Now I have NEVER done fisting, as I like to stay pretty tight. I take pride in that. Sorry, just not going to happen. I also haven’t done anal since I had to go through my cancer surgery. Mostly because when I do I tense up and get these horrid pains that cause me to black out. So I tell him no fisting, and I don’t do anal anymore for health/safety reasons.

So he replies that perhaps I’m not kinky enough for him. To which I calmly replied that being kinky enough isn’t the issue. The issue is I will not EVER risk my health and safety for anyone. My limits are mine, and mine alone. If that’s an issue perhaps we shouldn’t bother to meet up when he’ll be in town this coming week. I get ANOTHER email back from him after this, saying that real subs have no limits. I promptly told him to just fuck right the hell off.

I seriously thought we were over the era of creepy dom and all the bullshit that he has to offer, though it seems I have been mistaken. Then I had another thought…. what about the submissives, male and female, that don’t know how to deal with creepy dom or his counterpart creepy domme? It makes me really sad honestly.

Then there’s another part to all of this. I know damn well WHO and WHAT I am. I am Luci Snow, and I AM a switch. I have countless amounts of fun as both a Domme, and a submissive. I also happen to be a little girl and a middle. These things I would not trade for the world! I am deserving of amazing things, and no way in hell is something amazing going to ask me to drop my limits or compromise my health, safety, or my well being. I am better than that.

Pure Snow

So a few days ago I was talking to a friend, and he said I was strong. I haven’t been feeling too strong lately, I feel very small and weak honestly. I had the chance to be submissive again, to serve, and be a good girl… and I feel like I blew it. I was talking to someone that wanted to date me and ended up on a phone call for an hour after I texted him… with his girlfriend. I’ve been highly depressed between the end of last year and the start of this year. I lost someone I was deeply in love with, and it tore my whole world apart. So it really isn’t a good time for me, and I certainly don’t feel strong by any means of the word. Then I got on facebook and saw a post from like five years ago.

“I’ve carried a child within my body,slept with a baby on my chest.I’ve kissed boo boos and mended broken hearts.I’ve been puked on peed on, and spent sleepless nights in the rocking chair. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. My body isn’t magazine perfect, but when I look in the mirror, I see a MOM, and there is no greater honor or blessing!! “

It’s one of those re-post if you agree type of things, but it made me honestly stop and think about something. Yes I’m fat, and I’m nowhere NEAR perfect. I get undressed, alone and in front of others, and I wonder who would find it attractive at times. I’m getting older, I’m stubborn, and I have my issues as  everyone does… but  I have done things in life that some never have the chance to do, one being motherhood. I have carried a living being inside of my body, I’ve slept with a baby on my chest, I have kissed thousands of boo boos and tried to the very best of my ability to mend broken hearts over and over. I’ve been puked on, peed on, pooped on, and bled on. I’ve had millions of tears shed over various parts of my skin. I’ve gone countless nights without sleep, I’ve lived weeks with worry and doubt making a lifetime. I’ve been the reason that someone smiles and wakes up. I have helped countless situations, and I’ve survived cancer. I have been a good girl, and I’m STILL HERE. I may not feel very strong, but I am. It’s not the end of me, and tomorrow won’t be either. It’s going to be okay… and while it may seem like it won’t ever get better, and I’m going to be filled with stress, anxiety, panic and depression until I finally die… that’s not the case. The case is I am strong, and I’ll make it come hell or high water. I may not be perfect by any means, but I may just be perfectly what someone is looking for.

Goodbye Dearest King

Today I woke up with a smile, though it was ever so briefly. I logged onto the computer to check emails and saw that the Goblin King has gone. As a little girl I remember watching The Labyrinth for the first time and falling head over heels in love with a villain. The Goblin King was something that would stay in my heart forever, and start a great love affair with music and different forms of life. So when I heard the news that David had passed yesterday, the little girl in me still so much in love with a man died a little bit.

Born in London as David Jones on January 8th 1947 he started and grew to become, David Bowie. Bowie was so much more than a musician or an actor, even more than an artist or an icon. He  lived life on HIS terms, by his rules, and never once apologized for it. I have nothing but respect to live your life that way. To live 69 years, seemingly without regrets and on your terms is something that deserves some serious respect. David Bowie didn’t give a damn what anyone thought, and it worked very well for him during his years, both early and after returning to the public eye.

So I have been doing today, as I’m sure many fans have been, listening to the good times in song and  curling up with my own little girl to watch Labyrinth, which is also her favorite movie. I can see the way she looks at the Goblin King and doesn’t care that he’s a “bad  boy”, but loves him with his own charms anyway. That’s what we all have done right? Loved someone without a care about the flaws, just loving them more. A fan does that, yes there are bad times in someone’s career and life, but you love the person no matter what. To me, it wasn’t just about the music or the films, it was about the lesson that you learned by watching the way David Bowie lived his life, without saying he was sorry, because it was all on his terms, and life isn’t to be scripted by the public eye, or anyone else for that matter.

There is a cover of Pink Floyd’s Comfortably Numb done by both David Bowie and David Gilmour. With the first spoken word tears will come to your eyes, for a completely new reason, especially after today. Paired with the fact that Bowie wanted to leave us with a parting gift, his last album, Blackstar, the lyrics to the song are hauntingly familiar and yet in a way try to bring some type of closure and comfort to the fans that adored the man that was not only “The Goblin King” to many little girls, but to the man that always will be, David Bowie.

Goodbye my friend, my mentor in life lessons, and the man that captured this little girl’s heart so many years ago. You will be gravely missed, and life won’t be the same. We are absolute beginners and we absolutely love you.

 

David Bowie The Goblin KingDavid Robert Jones (David Bowie)

January 8th, 1947 – January 10th, 2016 (69 years)

Thoughts and a Brief Note to Sir…

So I’ve been debating for a while if I should even write this, but I guess I probably should, and somewhere deep down maybe I hope it’s going to help. To help whom is really the million dollar question though. So I met a Dom and we were seeing what would happen, and it seemed to be a pretty good thing. He and I thought the same about a lot of things, so it was a damn good match up honestly, at least in my mind. We had one meeting and a session and I was given a set of tasks. However, life seems to get in the way… as it always does. Things haven’t been the best for him, and I completely understand that. He told me he had to let me go, because the things going on he doesn’t think he can give me the things that I need too. We still talk, and honestly I adore talking to him just as much now as before. But I’m honestly worried about him. I know a few things here and there, but I know something’s wrong, and while I don’t expect him to tell me everything going on, I do want to be there for him. Is that completely fucked up? Am I just losing my mind?

 

Part of me feels like I’ve done something wrong. Like I wasn’t good enough. I guess that’s the parts of my past that haunt me and the outlook I tend to have on myself. My mind makes me wonder if yeah he’s going through a lot, but maybe I didn’t try hard enough or I wasn’t a good enough girl. I know, my mind is fucked up, but bear with me. It also fucks with me in the way that everything happened but he saw me, without the shyness or the worry… and then I was let go. I don’t mean to make it sound like I don’t believe him, or that I’m blaming him. Honestly I am blaming me. I’ve told him as much too, and he tells me it’s not like that. The scary part is I DO believe him, but my mind still doesn’t want to let me hear the words that it isn’t me, but life getting in the way. Sometimes I hate my mind…

But I’m getting off track. The point is I’m worried about him. I try to text him and let him know I’m here, and that I’m going to be here… because well that’s what friends do, and I’d like to have at least that with him. All of the things I have been through I worry a lot about what could or couldn’t be wrong, and the small glance at knowing him I got, he’s a really great guy. I don’t like knowing something’s wrong, and not being able to fix it. I guess that’s just who I am. So if you’re reading this, know that what I say to you in messages isn’t for show. I really do care, and I want to be there for you. If not as a submissive than as a friend. I’ve been through a lot in my life, and while I’m still dealing with a lot, maybe I can help. Maybe I can just listen if you want to scream. I know when I was told about having cancer I didn’t want to talk to anyone, to tell them, but it didn’t make it go away… it just made it harder.

xoxo

I’m a Rockstar, I got my rock moves

So more sad news, apparently Dead Fall Designs is closing right along with Urban Dare. Soooo of course I went to both places and picked up some new things. All for $10L a piece. So I decided to take some photos of my new gear and share it with all of you. This is a very short post, but well I have LOTS of new things coming; to my blog and to my shop. So time waits for no one!

I got a brand new attitude, and I’m gonna wear it tonight

And guess what,
I’m having more fun

And now that we’re done,
I’m gonna show you tonight

I’m alright,
I’m just fine,
And you’re a tool,
So, so what,
I am a rock star,
I got my rock moves,
And I don’t want you tonight.

Remember to keep checking back… there’s something new every day, unless I forget and get a little behind. *giggles* I’ll catch you all later, have a great day and hope you enjoyed the post! Remember if you have something you WANT me to review. You can always drop me a note in second life, via Snow Alchemi’s profile, or the mailbox at Alchemi Scenes!

Credit where credit is due!

Hair: Urban Dare – Julie – Black/Pink tips HUD {Craven Theas}
Eyes: Urban Dare.- Neko eyes – Special Edition (Light Blue) {Craven Theas}
Skin: }EoS{ – Slice – Fauna (Busty) {Beautiful Engineer}
Shape: Alchemi Scenes – Snow {Snow Alchemi}
Outfit: Dead Fall Designs – Adaline Dress (Pink) {Nitemara Daysleeper}
Boots: Bootgasm – Courtney Leather Ankle Boots (Black) – {Tad Nightfire}
Collar: OpenCollar {Asami Watanabe}
Fangs: Bloodlines The Thirst Fangs {Mars Bracken}
Blood Vial Necklace: Bloodlines Blood Vial {Mars Bracken}
Tattoos: GrungeInk – Poisin Tattoo {Fenom Gasparini}
Kitty: Urban Dare – Arm Kitty – White {Craven Theas)

What it’s like being a teen girl

Okay so I found this today while on Plurk. While I don’t often reblog something or “press this”. This is something I REALLY needed to blog.

 

What it’s like being a teen girl. If you don’t want to click the link, you can read it as followed…

 

The violations started small. I was 12, fairly tall with brand new boobs. My mother wouldn’t let me buy “real bras” for a long time. It didn’t occur to me that was weird until boys in my class started advising me to “stop wearing sports bras” because I was looking a little “saggy.”

It was a boy who told me I had to start shaving my legs if I wanted anyone to ever like me. I said that wasn’t true. He laughed in my face and called me a dyke.

That night after shaving, my mother asked me why I was so vain.

They started finding reasons to touch me, pinching my butt, snapping my new “real bras,” (“They look a lot better. Did you stuff?”) or straight-up grabbing my breasts. Dropped pencils with awkward leanovers. Staged run-ins.

One time, a popular boy I knew who lived on my street forced his way into my living room while my parents were still working and fought with me over a remote control so that he could cop a feel. I didn’t say anything. Speaking up was not an option—rather, an easy road to being even more ostracized and labelled “crazy.” Besides, who would believe that he’d wanted to touch me?

They named girls one by one, by the flaws of our bodies. What they considered theirs. They would write them on chalkboards to taunt us. Draw crude pictures.

If we showed it hurt us, it only got worse. I would cry in the bathroom and hope for some serious illness to keep me out of school, if only for a day.

When I kissed one boy, he encouraged me to do the same with his friends. Not because he thought I might want to, but because I was a toy he wanted to share. An experience he wanted to give his less “successful” friends. For them, a celebration. For me, certain social suicide.

Even if I wanted it, there was never any winning.

I will never forget how excited I was to be invited to watch a movie with the popular boy I liked. I primped for hours. (I was, after all, a teenager grappling with my own new sexuality.) When I got there, he did not put on the movie we agreed to watch, but a porn film. I had never seen one before. He unzipped his pants, pushed and pulled at me. I cried the whole walk home.

They could pinpoint weaknesses. Worse, they knew they were wrong but there were just never any consequences. They knew this—treating us like objects there for them—was what was expected of them.

I want to say that they stop. But the truth is that some never do.

I have never stopped being reminded of my there-for-men status. I am reminded when I am violated in my sleep, or groped in a bar, or held down by a longtime friend. I am reminded when I refuse conversation with a strange man and he spits in my direction, or calls me a “bitch.” I am reminded when I am asked why I wore such a pretty dress if I wasn’t trying to “pick up.” I am reminded when I am told to be less angry and more agreeable. I am reminded when I talk about my lived experience and am told to “stop being so negative about everything.” I am reminded when young girls are bullied so severely by men who wanted to see their bodies that they commit suicide.

We don’t talk honestly enough about what it’s like being a teen girl. If we did talk about it, what it was like for us, perhaps we wouldn’t be so harsh on them. Perhaps we wouldn’t throw our hands up in the air and exclaim “oh, teen girls, they’re so difficult!” Perhaps they wouldn’t be so scary. Perhaps we’d see their lives for the small and large violations they’re often made up of; and what those violations do.

Perhaps we would have been less surprised today when we learned that a fifteen-year-old boy was arrested on the scene of a sexual assault, in connection with a series of sexual assaults occurring in the Bloor and Christie area of Toronto. Perhaps we would be less shocked by the fact that it’s 12-17 year old boys who are the most likely to commit sexual assault (Statistics Canada, pg. 13). That is, after all, what they were doing to me.

My stories are not uncommon. They’re more common than we want to think. As my friend Panic said: “Ask anyone who is or has been a teenaged girl. 15-yr-old boys assaulting women is common. It’s ‘normal.’” It’s so normal, in fact, that we don’t talk about it until we’re women and we know it doesn’t have to be.

Pretty much everything in North American culture tells men and boys that women and girls are there for them. So please, do us some favours. Stop telling us that we have to take self defence. Stop telling us we shouldn’t drink or go out at night or on dates. Stop telling us that we need to be prepared for whatever “boys-be-boys” violations come our ways, because it’s bullshit. We don’t have to accept this or carry it around in silence.

Start talking with men and boys about the messages they’re getting about women and girls. Tell them that they are not entitled to our bodies, no matter what. Talk to them honestly and comprehensively about sexualization and objectification. Stop being afraid to talk about boundaries, sex, and pleasure—leaving that to schools, the Internet, and peers is simply not cutting it. Show them what consent really looks like.

And this sounds basic, but remind them that we’re, you know, people? We deserve at least that much.

Wishes

So much that I wish for,

so much that will never be.

For there stands an iron wall,

between happiness and me.

The wall is of my design,

erected by my hands.

Throughout my darkened days

I beg the wall to turn to sand.

I wish to live and breathe for real,

to scrap these shades of gray.

I find myself rehearsing

for that fabled perfect day.

I know this day will never be,

I grow weary of the thought,

a thousand dusty sundays pass.

My hopes are best forgot.

Yet I cling a drowning woman,

to dream of better days.

Wishes,

weak as infant’s arms,

are my last main stays.

How It Feels

So earlier Daddy said he had to go… that was around two in the afternoon. So he went, and I know he’s got things he has to do. I also know that things have changed and it’s going to be a lot harder to maintain our relationship now, than it was before. I didn’t hear from him again until a quarter of five. The only thing the text said was “miss me”. The funny thing is, I do miss, constantly. I miss him so much it hurts inside. I can go from being perfectly fine to feeling like complete shit when we can’t talk or see each other. I start to feel lonely and depressed, but then we get to talk and I get so damn excited I squeak. My stomach starts to feel like I’m on a roller coaster, my eyes sparkle, and I instantly smile. I don’t think Daddy realizes this. I don’t think he realizes just how much I do miss him when he’s gone. That’s not to say that he doesn’t know I miss him, I know well I hope that he knows I miss him. I’m just not sure he realizes to what extent I miss him sometimes. I’m talking about the love of my life. The man I want to marry, have children with, enjoy all the good and bad times with. He’s not just some person that I have sex with and happen to call Daddy… no he’s so much more than that. With everything that we’ve been through, it only makes me want to fight for us more. Daddy is my world and I adore him, I ache to my very core for him.

 

I do realize that some of my friends don’t really support my decisions just as well as I realize some of them hate that I stay. I’ve sat here and listened to people talk bad about Daddy and frankly that does nothing but piss me off. If you’re my friend, like you claim to be, you wouldn’t be talking shit about the man I’m in love with. He is MY CHOICE, even if he’s not your choice. However, that’s the funny part of it all… this is my life we’re talking about. My decisions, my thoughts, my emotions, yes… my life… and in my life I choose him. Do you realize that you talk shit about the man that makes me laugh? The man that makes me WANT to live and makes me smile all damn day long. I fall in love with him all over again every damn day. I’ve sat here and listened to what you all have to say, things like I should walk away, things like he doesn’t really care about me, he’s using me, it’s just a game, he doesn’t really love me… but you know what? It’s YOUR turn to listen.

 

When I wake up I wonder how he slept and if he’s awake yet. I go through my day and there’s not a minute that passes where Daddy isn’t in my thoughts. I talk to him almost constantly all day long. I feel bad, and he’s there. I feel sick, he’s there again. I want to do something; I make a decision or say it’s important to me… and guess what? Yep, he’s there, supporting me a hundred and ten fucking percent. I get upset, and he’s there to make me smile or laugh. He talks it out with me. Daddy lets me ramble half the time just to figure out something on my own and then smiles and says “I knew you could do it”. NONE of you seem to get that, but you’re all so quick to judge what you don’t know. You look at the colors, but not the painting.

 

There are plenty of photos of us on Fetlife together. You can see that we adore each other. If you look into our eyes in photos where we’re together, and look at ones when we’re alone, the looks are COMPLETELY different. My friends I ask you to look at photos of me before I was with Daddy. Do you see that look in my eyes?? That sorrow and hurt? The depression that’s there in my baby blues? Look at a photo of me now, or better yet one of me and him together… it’s not there in my eyes is it? For the first time in my life, I am happy in the relationship I am in. Could it be better? Yeah, it probably could, just as life could be better, but NOTHING is ideal. Nothing is easy, and I’m the most stubborn person I know. You can bet your sweet ass I’m going to work it out, fight, pour my blood, sweat, and tears into this.

 

You all think that this isn’t going to work. That I’m going to end up hurt, alone, and even more broken than I’ve ever been. I promise you, that I am going to prove you wrong. He loves me just as much as I love him, and there’s nothing that’s going to change that. Don’t get me wrong in this, I do appreciate that you care and that you’re worried about me, but you have to remember I’m an adult, I know what I want, and I can take care of myself. When you talk ill about the man I’m in love with, it really does piss me off and it hurts. If you’re my friend, you shouldn’t be talking that way about him, no matter if you like him or not just out of respect for me and our friendship.

I am aware that this might piss quite a few people off, and if that’s the case then I’ll accept that just fine, but if you truly are my friend, I know you’ll be there for me, care, and want the best for me. I know that if you’re really a friend, you’ll support my decisions and want to see me happy.

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