Now That You Are Here

Utterly Fucking Clueless

Sometimes I really hate men. 

I slide on my Nike slides and finally make my way out of my room. Somehow, through complete manipulation, I got my own room. I was already forced to be here, I'm not going to share my bedroom with someone. No way in hell. That was a line no one was going to cross. Everything else in my life has been intruded into by someone, and my room is the one place I can feel comfortable. 

I know it sounds weird, but it gives me a comfort that I lack getting from anyone else. That sounds really sad, but it's true. Not in a million years will I ever share a bedroom with someone, unless it's a guy, and I like (maybe even love) him. Though, no guy has ever stayed long enough to love me. 

Except maybe Houston Summers, my now cheating ex. But, he never really loved me, obviously because he was cheating on me. He was cheating on me for four months. Most likely with different girls, but I don't know if that makes it better or worse. I didn't really love him that much either.  

We weren't together long enough for that, in total only about six months, but it still hurt knowing he was cheating. I should've seen it though. I was dumb not to. All the tall tale signs were there. Yet, I was so blinded by the fact that someone maybe wanted to be with me that I didn't see the truth. 

Now, all men want a taste of the sorority slut. 

My parents have always been a major factor in keeping boys away. They have always been known as the most protective, overbearing parents in my whole old small town. There weren't a lot of people to choose from, but they really lived up to their reputation. I couldn't have a boy over till I was seventeen, and we had to stay in the living room or outside. 

Outside...in the front yard. That's not the only rule that kept me from doing anything in my entire life so far. The minute I got to college I wanted to make lifelong friends, maybe go to a party, and then I found out that they are best friends with the dean of students.

My parents have made sure that I'm being watched. That's incredibly creepy. That didn't go down with me at all, but I constantly have eyes on me. I wish I could just go somewhere with someone that no one knew about. I wouldn't have to live up to unachievable expectations of who I'm supposed to be. No one reaches who they are supposed to be because that's not who they are. 

That just makes sense, but it hasn't stopped me from sucking up to my parents because I love them. I have accepted the fact that I'm not going to get everything I want. That has been a clear factor in my life for a long time, but being at least a little independent, I can see that doing what I really want is something else that'll have to be put away in the back of my mind.

Saying that, I'm not exactly sure what I want to do. As I've said before. My family life is so dysfunctional that no one has liked me enough to go meet them. When they found out I had a one night stand, my parents actually came to visit me. They sat on my bed and listed my sins and how I'm going to hell. 

That doesn't make sense to me because in order to have me, they had to commit a supposed sin. I'm not religious, so I have no idea how sins or whatever work, but I feel the hypocrisy.  Besides boys not wanting to meet my family, no one has ever wanted to meet my family. Not even in middle school or high school. No one. They were all too afraid that my parents would make them fill out a doctor's chart.

 Even Houston didn't want to meet my family, not that he's the best example. It's just that he was cheating on me. You would think that meeting my family and finding out their psychos would be a great excuse to break up with me. It don't make any sense. Unless, he liked the fact that he was sneaking behind my back but still could have sex with me. 

I was utterly fucking clueless, and the only reason is because I was so protected as a kid. No friends to hurt me, no boys to show me how much of idiots they really are. I had no heartbreak, no life decision making. Nothing. I love my parents (and my extended family), it's just that they can be controlling. 

With a certain person, definitely a man that I like, controlling can be great. Like, I don't know, telling me that I'm going to sit on my butt while he cooks me dinner. Great! Telling me that he wants to fuck my brains out, great! Telling me to stay by his side all night, great! I find that sort of supportive, loving relationship wonderful, but that's not how it works with my parents. 

My parents controlling however is, we are forcing you to be in a sorority you really don't want to be, and make sure you pick a profession where you can be rich enough to buy a house for us. That's bad! No, thank you. I don't think it's that difficult to differ from the two of those options. One option of clearly better than the other.

But I'm lucky. I have parents. I say that, and yet I'm still complaining. I could have it so much worse. I have so much privilege, and it's horrible that I still have things to say about how much my parents drive me out of my mind. The three of us have done things together. They were present in my life, but it was too much. 

They were too present. I think that's part of the problem with why certain things have happened to me. In my earlier schooling days, I was a loner, but it wasn't because I wanted to be. People would try to talk to me, and I would say that I couldn't. I couldn't talk to them. I would try, but the principal would tell my parents.

The three of us have a complicated relationship. I love them, I do, but I'm an adult too. I should be able to live my own life. Right? That's no crazy to think that I can do my own thing. Of course, I've made mistakes and I'll continue making them, but I want to figure them out myself. 

I want to learn what makes me happy and not what will make my parents happy. I don't want them to be disappointed. I chew on my bottom lip as I think hard. My brain goes on overdrive, telling me all the horrible thoughts that are really lies, but they seem so fucking real I just have to believe it. 

That's the scariest thing about anxiety. My own brain is lying to me, so what can I really trust?

I can't trust myself. It think that's another reason my parents are the way they are. When we all found out I was prone to panic attacks, and depression, and overthinking like crazy, I was put into this bubble. I don't get panic attacks all the time, it only happens in really overwhelming situations, but besides that it's not a big deal. 

I don't even really get panic attacks in parties, it's more when I'm scared. I have major claustrophobia. If I was locked in a small space, I would most likely have a panic attack. That's the way that works. It's not like I'm broken. 

Another deep sigh exits my mouth as I open the front door of the house. Once I step out, I close the front door of the sorority just as a few boys walk out of the party. Clearly drunk boys. I roll my eyes while they whistle and watch as I pass by. That shouldn't be happening. I should be allowed to walk anywhere and not have to worry about boys whistling at me. Next thing you know, in my sweatpants and hoodie or whatever I'm wearing, they are going to be telling me I asked for it. No, I didn't. 

Those guys are just being misogynistic assholes who think they are better than everyone because they're narcissistic, straight, white men who can get away with pretty much anything. What else is new. Society needs a change, desperately. It's going to cause me to have a panic attack. I somehow make it to the store without any complications, besides maybe almost falling on my face once or twice, but that I'm used to. On my way back though, I'm not so lucky.