October 27, 2016 § 5 Comments
Oi minha gente. Hoje é o dia que eu tenho meu segundo aula portugues. Eu estou estudando cada dia e eu sei todas as conjugações de os três verbos regulares. Eu usei “falar, comer, e partir”practicar. Meu professor me perguntou não estudar esses verbos antés nosso próximo lição. Mas eu não posso esperar uma semana…então eu terminei toda a trabalha estaremos fazer hoje. Caralho, eu sou impaciente.
October 5, 2016 § 3 Comments
I’m crazy, and I don’t know why.
I’m a handsome guy. I’m tall. I’m not fat. I have a great smile. I have a great beard. I can fuck like a damn animal. My dick is really good. I’m funny. I’m likable.
Sure, I have my quirks. There’s no doubt about that. I’m strange. I tend to ramble about shit that doesn’t matter at all, like my hatred for ranch dressing (which is a great dressing, if you’re a hillbilly that likes the taste of ass in your mouth). I can be loud and I don’t know when to shut up sometimes. Nothing seriously bad, just little things of mine.
But every day of my life for as long as I can remember I’ve never felt good enough. I’ve never felt good enough for love, for sex, for awards, for congratulations, or even for celebration. As a kid I never wanted birthday parties. They made me feel strange. I don’t want a bunch of people showing up to my house — they wouldn’t do it because they like me. It was out of pity. Or at least these were the rationalizations I would make as a kid.
Even when I graduated college, I was convinced that the engineering college only gave me a degree because they felt bad for me. I didn’t believe that I was actually good enough (and if I’m being entirely honest I still don’t). I was convinced that it was given out of pity. Pity for what? I’m not sure.
Then when I repeatedly get better jobs and my career advances, I’m convinced that it’s for some other reason than my own ambition, intelligence, and hard work. There’s constantly this voice telling me that I’m not good enough. And the strangest part is that I wouldn’t even call this a self-confidence issue. I’m very confident in myself. I think I’m attractive, intelligent, well-spoken, etc. If anything I’m probably conceited. But for whatever reason I can never accept success in any form.
And as I grow older, I’m realizing that this inability to accept good fortune is affecting my love life as well.Significantly. Since I moved to North Carolina I’ve slept with many girls and been in relationships with three. The hook-ups never bothered me. It was unattached sex and I felt content simply gorilla fucking a girl and never seeing her again. But you know how it is, every so often you run into one that feels different. Your brain and your heart tells you that you need to see them again. These were my relationships.
The first of the three was an anomaly. I didn’t care about that person anymore and I didn’t love them. I moved to North Carolina with her and I felt a lot of guilt for leaving her, but she was extremely wrong for me. And now I’m very thankful I moved on.
The second relationship was the first time in my life I had a moment where I thought, if even for a short time, that I had found the one. But that feeling was quickly replaced by the familiar urge to leave them behind and go sling some dick. They did not satisfy me in ways that I needed to be satisfied, and I left them to find what I was looking for. I felt bad for about a week, but once I had my own place again and I started slinging dick again I completely got over them.
Then I met my third and current relationship in North Carolina.We’ve been fucking since January of 2016, and in a relationship since February. This girl is something else. Physically, she’s exactly my type. Latina, dark hair, big ass. I can’t look at her and not immediately want to fuck her. It’s been nine months and I still feel the same. That initial feeling that I’ve found “the one” never left. And I still find myself looking into her eyes after fucking for hours and wondering how I got so lucky.
She tells me all the time that I’m hot. How bad she wants me. How much she loves me. And I can tell she means all of it, especially when my dick is inside her. She looks at me the same way I look at her. She likes tall white guys with beards. But she loves my blue eyes. And when we lock eyes I know she’s thinking about my dick before we even kiss. She’s very open with her sexuality, which is partially a Brazilian thing, but mostly her thing. She’s very sexual just like me. But she’s made it very clear that she doesn’t want anyone else besides me. When she went back to Brazil in January (before we were in a relationship) she said she couldn’t fuck anyone else because she was thinking of me. And she didn’t fuck anyone else, even though I told her I would fuck other girls. And I did.
It’s very clear that this girl loves me. She’s crazy about me. She needs me. But guess what? That voice in my head, the one that tells me I’m not good enough? Yeah, still there.Except it’s even worse than when it was when I was in school or getting promotions. Now it affects my love life. It makes me feel inadequate in the most intimate of ways.It makes me suspect that she’s cheating on me.
This is not new. I felt similarly with my most recent ex. In that case, the voice somehow convinced me that she wished she was with her exes. That I wasn’t good enough compared to them. And that she was “settling” for me. That I was some boring guy she decided to be with as a last resort. Of course, none of this was true. Not even remotely. I was more handsome than any of her exes, and I lived a much more interesting life than them. But that didn’t stop me from spending my time alone pouring over her social media searching for old pictures and posts about ex lovers. Obsessing over people I didn’t know and irrationally and unfairly building animosity toward a girl who loved me with all of her heart.
I left her(for a host of reasons, but certainly my own issues being one of them). I broke her heart. And I learned something important about myself: don’t fucking concern yourself with the past. Especially the past of others.
So in my current relationship, I’ve managed to completely avoid that trap. I’ve never even looked at her Facebook profile before the date we met. I don’t want to know. It’s not my business and most importantly it’s fucking irrelevant.So far, by ignoring her past I’ve managed to prevent it from becoming a problem.
But the voice is still there. And it’s manifested itself in the form of insecurity once again. My girl likes to go out a lot. And I work a lot of weekend night shifts. So when I’m working all night during the weekend, she’s out with her friends. While on the one hand I completely trust her and know that she loves me and doesn’t need anyone else, this voice just repeats itself over and over in my head the entire weekend while I’m at work.
Just to be clear, I’m using “voice” here as a sort of metaphor for the feelings and mental images my brain decides to conjure up in reaction to my own deep feelings of inadequacy. It’s not as if there’s literally a voice in my head repeating “you aren’t good enough”. But instead my brain creates these ridiculous hypotheticals about what my girlfriend may be doing, as opposed to what she said she was doing.
In every case my mind links these crazy, fabricated scenarios with a larger narrative (also fictional) that is based on my inability to ever possibly be good enough. Lately, it’s been that she’s simply with me for a green card and fucks other guys who please her in ways that I can’t. Recent narratives have suggested that her friends, family, and even the children she babysits are in on the rouse and that I’m the fool who somehow doesn’t know.
In every case I’m always the fool. The sucker. The idiot. My biggest fear, be it in relationships, professional life, academic, etc is that people are conspiring behind my back and that I’m a part of some larger plot to fool me. Every compliment, award, or accomplishment is simply a lie to distract me from the fact that I’m being used for some other purpose, or that people simply feel bad for me (for what reason, I have no idea).
Look, I know I’m crazy. And lately I’ve been trying to confront my craziness in order to better understand it and maybe even move past it. My main motivation is Larissa. I love her and I don’t want to see here leave me life. I don’t want to fuck this up. So I’m doing my best to reign in my crazy brain. Maybe in the process I can figure out why exactly I’ve felt this way?
Until next time,