Call me Hurricane: A Semi-true and Fucked up Story

Chapter 6: If I hear does this bra make my boobs look big ONE MORE TIME

Here is where all that rage I am known for floods the page, right....right?  Wrong, ladies and gentlemen this is the loony bin chapter. Please skip if you don't want to read this.

I bet your girlfriend has asked you does she look fat in this? Does she look good? Do you find her sexy? Yes I know us of the female sex do ask a lot of stupid questions that can lead to arguments if we intended to get the truthful answer. Most of us just want the one that makes us feel like you think we are the hottest damn bitch on the planet. (My only dating advise the whole story) My life is a mess you should not expect me to help solve your issues when I can't even solve my own, get real, this is real life.

Evan being more female genetically speaking than male, was placed back on female hormones, and Evan was going to become Sarah again because well his doctor told him it would be the best choice. He told me this about the end of our relationship, but it sure explained a whole hell of a lot. Evan spent more time looking at his tits in the mirror than I ever have in my entire life. And before we could go anywhere I would have to assure him that his tits could not be seen.

Do you know what the issue is when you are with someone that has no confidence in themselves? It becomes a chore to tell them that they are the hottest bitch around because they are so lost in the negative thoughts about themselves that you begin to lose yourself.

Lost in this co-dependent lesbian mess, I lost my mind for awhile, I needed a break and because I wouldn't give my mind the break it needed with work falling apart on top of everything else, it forced a break.

The mental hospital I have always told people is the best place to go when you no longer feel sane. No matter what I promise you, you will always find someone less sane than yourself. This time I only spent three days, just long enough to catch my breath and sort my head. This was my second mental hospital in my life, and really my first glance of what I imagined jail to be like. Doors had to be open at night and phone calls were limited to twice a day for five minutes at a time.

Basically the main point I want to make with this chapter is really good anti anxiety drugs postpone the end of a shitty relationship, because your too high to care. If you don't want the shit to end I recommend getting them, staying on them and riding that fucking wave.