An Exercise You'll Remember
Are we meant to pour out the raw content at this stage? Or are we meant to produce a first draft of a story? Ready to crucify self.
Yikes, Chuck! There isn't a thing I haven't told my husband. Gimme a little time to think about this.
Sometimes, I wish my parents would die so I could stop worrying about them.
As my four-year-old stepson once said: my heart is beeping so fast.
Okay. I'm thinking.
Spending many years in therapy has left me with very few unspoken confessions, but if I dig deep I may be able to find one I'm willing to share here. I'll come back to this.
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As a child I daydreamed about being kidnapped because in my mind, being stolen away by strangers was more peaceful than being at home.
In my 20’s I used to drink my own urine because I thought it was healthy.
I expected to be ostracized.
I hate the world. I hate the Universe. I hate everything to an extent that even if I had everything, all pleasures, all revenge and all the riches, even if I became emperor, and could commit every atrocity, even then, I wouldn't feel justified. It's a grudge that I believe I will carry to the grave and beyond.
I've got a warm up confession which is so ick to me lol. As an addict spent every dime of my savings of 45,000 dollars on opiates and heroin. That doesn't include the weekly paychecks.
I live witha man, my children's father, he's going through hard time now, having therapy...when I look at him I know that everything is over and I will leave him as soon as he will be better. I don't want suicide on my hands and he is a good father after all. But I might as well destroy him and tell him a truth that I slept with his stepfather when we started dating.
Eh, who cares.
Many years ago while hitchiking from New Mexico to San Francisco I was picked up by a trucker hauling some war machinery I cant recall. The trucker had a tatto of the confederate flag with the word "Cracker" written underneath. Of course, this was something of a red flag but when hitchiking through the desert, beggars cannot always be chosers.
The length of my ride with this trucker consisted of me kindly rejecting his propositions to smoke meth with him and fuck him.
We stopped at a rest stop and I got out to stretch and piss. Upon coming out of the rest area, I saw to my horror the nefarious trucker speeding off and into the sunset with my belongings. I called the cops and we tracked him down. I did retrieve my things and did not press charges in hopes that this incedent may serve as a lesson to him.
Of a long list of odd human intetactions that was by far the most surreal.
Well— here it goes. As a kid, I was so terrified of passing by “Andy Gumps” that lived behind the fruit cellar door in the basement of our old farm house to use the bathroom— that if I had to urinate, I’d either do it in a corner of the bedroom or sit on the ledge of the window and let it out that way.
And now I’m mortified because you all know. Great, let the judgement begin…
When I was 14 years old I drank a whole bottle of whisky in my friend's basement. My parents got back home and started screaming. They found me dead in bed in a bath of puke. The ambulance rushed me to hospital. I went in an ethylic coma for a few hours. When I woke up in the morning I kissed my mum and asked, "How was your evening?" I couldn't remember anything of what happened. And after so many years I still can't.
Well the post may get the government to come after me but I'll tell this anyways. Since I worked at Camp David everyone thinks it's a vacation spot for the preseident. It's actually a place where the president can fuck or be fucked by foreign heads of state. Sometimes they fuck the Seabees or corpsman stationed there.