Continued 4

Months go by, thankfully, though im still known as a ****. Luckily no one cares enough to still talk about it and I pretend none of it happened. Im now talking like a **** though, pretending im obsessed with sex. Even as I would talk about it, I would be asking myself why I was, because I know people weren’t impressed, they were just laughing at me. I honestly just wanted the attention. Boys talked to me more, thought it was amusing and the fact that all the boys I had hooked up with were hot, made my self confidance boost a mile. In a way I felt good about myself because this was the first time in my life I had ever felt pretty, and like boys wanted me, even if I don’t remember actually experiencing them. Looking back, I wish I never talked about it, and acted like it didn’t happen, but feeling pretty was all I had ever wanted in my life. Ever. Being told you’re not good enough because of the way you look was so deteriating, and depressing. As the months went by though, and boys stopped paying attention to me, I started feeling ugly again. I think this feeling is what triggered my sexual being when I was wasted. Theres always a reason in the deep corners of someone mind that explains the things they do when they don’t really want, or mean to do them. This was mine. I went to my best friends house on the weekend, a night of drinks with my friends around Christmas time. For secret santa, I had received a bottle of peach schnapps. My favourite. I had brought along with me a bottle of wine, and a couple beers. My friend was also providing me with shots of lime vodka as the night went on. I drank all of the above. I fell down the stairs and broke two fingers halfway through the night, kept drinking. I threw up a good thirty times, kept drinking. I know it sounds like im bragging, but im just trying to give you a sense of how drunk I get, and why I wake up not remembering anything. Apparently I tried to hook up with one of my best guy friends. He respects me thankfully, and told me to go to bed. I did, only to be taken advantage of by a sober boy two years younger than me. I woke up, wondering what the **** happened to my hand, when my friends came in and explained the events of the night. I cried right there and then. Especially when they explained the details of how sloppy and embarrassing I acted while engaging in intercourse with this boy. Humiliation is the number one feeling in my life currently. I drive my self to the hospital, alone, crying. Wondering why I do these things, because I don’t have any idea why I do. To me, im not the one making these decisions. I would never make these decisions if I was sober. But again, im the only one to blame. The guys are just simply taking what is easy to get. Theres another word that I can use to describe myself. Easy.

thatslut thatslut
18-21, F
Sep 14, 2012