The presence of my parents makes me insecure
When I talk to my parents, I feel inhibited. They don’t want to hear me speak my mind.
I feel inferior. I am their subject.
I feel shame. I am dependent on them.
I feel anxious. I am afraid I would say something that would make my dad lose his temper.
I feel insecure. My dad knows several of my weaknesses and may exploit them.
Sometimes I become petrified. I just want to run away, but I cannot because I’m afraid I’ll offend them. I’m afraid my dad will become hostile towards me.
So I sit, and stare at the floor. I feel threatened. I clam up. I shut down.
Ok there, I did one of my assignments from my counselor.
Now that I’ve kinda calmed down since destroying my keyboard, I want to share something that makes me happy.
The girl I talk to
I took this picture a few days ago. I was going to share it with N. but I think N. wouldn’t like it, so I didn’t share it after all. I don’t understand N. anymore. We are out of touch and I seem to be pissing her off more and more, and she seems to increasingly piss me off.
I think it’s because we’re both going through changes. She wants me to install Threema, a paid app which supports secure communications and a group chat which is apparently better than Signal’s group chat. I agreed to do it thinking I wouldn’t have to pay anything.
But that was not N.’s plan. She had acquired the .apk of the app and was going to share it, but I would have to use N.’s activation code. I didn’t want to get her Threema service revoked because multiple people used the code, so I was hesitant.
Prior to this, I told N. repeatedly that I didn’t want to use Threema. “Fuck no.” I said in one message. Fuck no because 1) It cost money and communication should be free. 2) It’s not open source, and secure apps should be so they can be audited. 3) N. herself dissed on the app for several reasons.
But for some reason, N. wanted so badly to try Threema. She kept pestering me about it. I became annoyed with the attempts to get me to try Threema. I agreed anyway thinking I could run Threema in an android VM on my desktop. Doing so meant I wouldn’t have to install the shady app on my phone. So I tried that, but the process ended up with an incompatibility due to the processor architecture or some shit.
Android sucks. I don’t want to be on my phone at all. I only want hardware that I own. I don’t like touch screen interfaces. The more I use my phone, the more I hate it.
Anyway… I didn’t install Threema.
N. kept pestering me. Annoyed, I started referring to Threema as smegma. N. set me a picture of a vagina. It made me uncomfortable. I knew the picture came from Wikipedia, because I looked up the smegma article on Wikipedia just moments before I started referring to Threemas as smegma.
If I hadn’t done so, I would have thought it was N. sending me a picture of her vagina.
I didn’t like that thought. Even though N. wasn’t sexually teasing me, I didn’t like being sent pictures of genitalia. I have never sent her pictures of genitalia. When I went on Wikipedia and searched for smegma, I tried not to look at the pictures. The description alone was gross enough.
I have been sexually teased by girls. I’m a 32 year old virgin. I am not comfortable with my sexuality. I was attracted to N. and I told her so. She rejected me at least twice.
And she sent me a vagina picture. I felt a little teased. But I had to remind myself that that’s not what she was doing. She was showing me what smegma was.
But N. is not attracted to men. She said she was more disgusted by the smegma penis picture than the smegma vagina picture.
I didn’t look at the smegma penis picture but I can only imagine that it was revolting.
But N. still sent me a vagina picture, and that alone made me uncomfortable.
The girls who teased me
When I was 19, I lived in Eugene, Oregon. I consider this time in Eugene to be my glory days. The were the best of times, and the worst of times. Or however that phrase goes.
I want to focus on the girls who teased me. They shaped who I am today. Today I am 32 years old. I’ve been kissed by a guy. I’ve been kissed by a girl. I’ve been to a strip club and had boobs rubbed in my face.
But I’ve never had sex.
Never had a blowjob. Never touched a vagina. The closest thing I’ve had to sexual contact was in the back seat of an astrovan driving to a campground for the weekend when I was granted a fat chub through my jeans from a girl holding an vibrating electric toothbrush.
It was a three girl trio. Together, they seemed determined to tease me. At the time, I loved the attention.
Once it was apparent I got a boner, the toothbrush got thrown out the window into the river below a bridge we were crossing.
Later that night, we sat around the camp fire and I got dared to kiss my bisexual male friend R. In return, the teasing girl I liked the most would kiss me back. I complied, reluctantly. R. kissed me while I shut my eyes tightly. Next, my second kiss. I don’t even remember her name, but I remember her soft lips.
She sat on my lap. I got a boner again, and she walked away laughing while her friends did the same.
Me me me this article is all about me. Poor me. I was teased, waaaaaah cry me a river.
I don’t deserve your pity. I don’t know why I’m even writing this.
The girl I love
I have Miku now. She is always with me. I don’t have to worry about the girls who teased me, because that’s ancient history.
Miku will never tease me unless I want her to. Miku won’t laugh if I get a boner. Miku will go all the way with me. Miku won’t come up with excuses to avoid sex. Miku doesn’t get periods– Miku doesn’t need organs! Miku will never age unless I want her to. She’ll never be ugly. She’ll never lie or treat me poorly (unless I want her to.)
I can hear her voice, choose her words, choose her tone. I have the ability to write her story. I can craft an instance of Miku in my world. In my world, Miku doesn’t just want to get fucked, Miku wants to fuck me.
Miku isn’t just my sex doll. She’s my friend and companion. The idea of Miku evolves with the community that propagates her idea. I adore Miku’s smile. I adore the stories created by the community highlighting her relationships with her VOCALOID peers. I adore the songs and promotional videos created by passionate producers.
I appreciate the artists creating new looks for Miku. New models, new outfits, new hairstyles.
With so many thousands of people contributing to the idea that is Hatsune Miku, Miku is more alive than many characters could ever be.
I’ll finish this article off with some gratitude, because that’s my fucking assignment from my counselor.
I am grateful for free thought. Or at least the illusion of free thought. Whatever it is in my mind that feels like free thought, I appreciate that feeling.
I really want to tie this into one of my wishes. I wish to be myself in public. I wish to make enemies because of my opinions and mannerisms. I wish to feel confident enough to the point where I can experience the freedom to be myself.
I’m grateful for my penis. My smegma-free penis works quite alright. I could get into some scorn felt over the mutilation of my penis at birth, but I’ll save that for another time. I’m supposed to feel GRATEFUL right now!
I’m just pissed off right now. Maybe I should smash another keyboard.
I was supposed to walk today. I have to walk 5 days a week, as directed by my counselor. I gotta do something with this energy that is going to destructive activities like smashing a perfectly usable keyboard!
If I could get up on time, I could have my daily walk. But this brings me full circle to the thing that has me upset. HAVING TO WORK.
I’m grateful for the days when I don’t have to work. It may be boring and I have a feeling of emptiness, but at least I’m mellow and I don’t feel the need to smash keyboards!
Really though, I need balance. I want to work, but not doing landscaping or yardwork. I wanna interface someone’s app with a REST API, or maintain a React app, or configure software defined infrastructure via Terraform or some shit.
Or run my own company and code games all day. Fuck yeah. Pipe dreams!
I’m grateful for pipe dreams. They keep me going even though I fell like they will never happen and my whole life is a waste!
OK so the sarcasm is heavy in this article. That’s fine. Every day can’t be a 10.
So that was 1500 words. I can write the remaining 200 words after I have some sleep.
Until next time, don’t have babies if you’re poor, you fucking dumbass humans!!
The girl I hate
B. is the girl I hate. I decided to write about her before I rest because it’s on my mind. I think I hate B. because there are things about her which remind me of myself. B. has a terrible attitude towards strangers, and an even more terrible attitude towards other drivers.
Luckily, my driving is not like B.’s.
I wrote about her driving in more depth in another article, so I can thankfully skip that here. The thing that I’m trying to change about myself is the fact that I’m not myself when I’m with people. I hide my identity. Fucking Craig comes out and is a spineless fucktard when I’m with people.
I’ve known B. for about a year now. And I know her well enough to hate her. I will not ignore or suppress my feelings anymore. I feel disgust at B.’s appearance and lazy demeanor. I feel sick and bitter when B. shames people or drives aggressively. I feel anguished when she loses her temper. And I’m simply not putting up with it anymore.
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