The diagnosis of one's own health problems, usually without direction or assistance from a physician.
See, a doctor once told me I had general anxiety and some doctors that I know personally told me that I have general anxiety. I nodded and said, okay, not really caring what "general" meant.
So I diagnosed myself with separation anxiety.
I hit an all-time low on Thursday. It was the kind of freak out everyone has been waiting for. The moment when everything bad that has ever happened to me surfaced and my brain relived every bad, sad, scared emotion I've ever had. I popped a few more pills than I should have and when I finally got home from a 15 hour work day, i clasped on my bedroom floor and cried for hours. I was drifting in and out of dream and consciousness and at some point I hands down, convinced myself that I was no longer alive. That I was dead and this was hell and all of my questions were answered but they were all the wrong answers.
I was cold, I was so fucking cold. I put a sweater, pants, socks and mittens on. I got underneath my heavy winter blanket and dreamt about a man raping me all night.
I woke up with an annoying pill hangover, head pounding and equilibrium was a bit off. I fed my rabbits, drank a whole bunch of water and took an abnormally hot shower. My eyes were terribly swollen from all of the crying and it came to me....
I am simply lonely.
Really the only people in my life that give me enough attention to satisfy my needy needs are the penis' that end up in between my legs.
But these relationships aren't going to amount to anything. Partly because I won't allow it because I'm secretly waiting for someone and partly because these men just want a vagina to fuck.
I really need to work on not fucking on the first date. But something happened when my parents chromosomes got together and created me. I am a spawn of the sex gods. I need it just as bad as any slutting man out there. And I will sacrifice sleep to travel really far to get laid.
Masturbation just doesn't work for me anymore.
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