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  • By girly-d
  • On 17/08/2018

I'm not an angel.

I've never claimed to be... and I wouldn't qualify anyway; there are far too many notches on my bedpost.

Because sadly, I'm not an 'etch-a-sketch'; I don't have an 'erase' button option like they do in "Black Mirror", so basically everything I've ever done in that department has been written across my soul in either permanant marker or giant neon letters.

For better or for worse.

Mainly for worse...

But anyway -


 I didn't sleep around for kicks.

Although I could have.

Every single night of the week if I'd wanted...

 I slept with men for escapism.

I slept with them because I was lost and lonely and out of my depth with things and I needed to not be by myself for a while.

And I wanted to believe in the things that they told me and I wanted to feel beautiful and I wanted to heal the hole in my soul that nothing I've found in my life so far seems to fix...and so I would drink and take drugs and I would pretend to myself that I was having a great time...

And I would let them put their hands on me and I made the right noises and everyone lived happily ever after.

Only I didn't.

Because the hole in my soul cant be fixed with nameless faceless meaningless sex...

It just opened up the chasm wider, which left me feeling worse than before and started the whole vicious circle whirling again...

Which was pretty fucking soul destroying.

I don't do that now...any of it.

The drink, the drugs, the rock and the roll.

I have a lot more respect for myself...

Plus given the incredible amount of headfuck that men have  managed to cause me lately,  getting laid isn't really a priority of mine right now.

I'm too busy getting well.

Doing things differently...

And so, if you've seen my photo and you think that you know me because we happened to cross paths during my drinking days and now you want to tell tales to the world, spare me ok? Because I've beaten you to it ...it's already out there. 

I've already told the world myself...