Don't Touch Me

When I touch people or things sometimes I get feelings from them.
It's not something I really question anymore, because it's happened
too many times when people's emotions have overwhelmed my barriers
and their unmediated fears and pain have flowed across from their
bodies into mine.

I held my anorexic friend's hand between mine at a party on the
weekend, because I wanted to send her warmth because she's always
cold, because her body can't produce enough body heat for her
anymore. She said something along the lines of "Are you sending
warmth to me? That's so weird!" I suppose she felt that something
more was happening, and that it just wasn't simply my body heat
that was making her hand feel warmth.

After a few moments though, I felt a piercing, chilling cold reach
from her into my being. I know it's going to sound completely
cliché, but it felt like death. Before I could never have said what
it felt like to have anorexia, because I had never fault that
horrible chill in my body as it failed to keep me warm and safe,
because it didn't have the energy anymore.

I can say now that I have felt it, if only just for a moment.

Mixed Conclusions

I'm comfortable with people being attracted to me. Well, not when
I'm not attracted to them, and even when we're mutually attracted
to each other my confusion about my sexuality and my other hang-ups
pretty much doom the relationship before it begins (which it
doesn't) but still, I can say that when someone is attracted to me
I generally know what to do about. I avoid them, and when they
track me down to tell me they like me, I say that I don't like them
in that way and then we both sort of pretend it never happened and
get on with out lives.

But what do you do when someone is attracted to you but refuses to
admit it?

That sentence looks confusing, so I'll attempt to explain. My
friend is attracted to me, but he maintains he is not gay, ergo he
cannot be attracted to me. Everyone around is pretty much convinced
he is at least bisexual (which I don't have a problem with, having
been raised in a very open household and probably actively
encouraged to be homosexual) but he remains in denial about himself.

I can sympathize with this completely, because I'm not open or okay
with my sexuality at all yet, and I can't seen a near future when I
will be. That being said, I don't put people around me in the
situation of having to deal with my advances under my constant
statements that they aren't advances at all. I don't go up to other
guys and start touching them all the while maintaining that it's
all a joke.

Do you get where I am going with this? it's sinister because I
can't tell him to stop, or at least be honest with what he is doing
with calling him out on being attracted to men.

It's a very annoying position to be in, and I'm not sure how to
solve it.

Addictions Unsaid

In an ironic turn of events, the day after myself and two friends
spend an enjoyable evening drinking tea and making fun of the
educational comics on the Alcoholics Anonymous website another
friend unknowingly makes me admit to myself that I am still
addicted to pornography.

She also said she was against pornography because it is harmful to
people's image of what sex is (which is what my mother told me when
she found out I was looking at it) and she also said that it
becomes unhealthy for people and removes them from being able to be
aroused by natural things.

The problem isn't that I don't agree with her; I do agree with her.
The problem is that I try and stop and then in a moment of weakness
or boredom or anger or any other emotion I turn to my addiction.

I have to find a way to cut it out of my options of ways to make
myself feel better, or I'm never going to get a
girlfriend/boyfriend and have sex.

Which would be a major social faux-pas. Maybe I'll take up skeet-
shooting.

--
Click here for free info on Graduate Degrees.
http://tagline.hushmail.com/fc/Ioyw6h4eSppavoBW7AGPRoGJ8IF1kLFNa5AjJOwacmWJOGoN7JKCjJ/

Out of Sorts

The semester has begun again, and all I can say is it's very nice
to be away from home again. That being said, everything isn't all
peaches and giggles. Whatever the hell that means.

My friends are all out at different parties, but I didn't really
have it in me. One of my best friends today fell into a
conversation with me about depression, and about how she has
decided to go back onto Prozac. It got me thinking about the ways I
deal with my own depression, and about my objections to putting
anti-depressants in my body.

It's not that I think that they don't work for a lot of people. My
father was on Prozac after his law practice collapsed, and I think
he really helped him deal with his problems. I just could never
imagine altering my brain chemistry on a semi-permanent basis.
Don't get me wrong, I enjoy mind-altering chemical compounds as
much as the next person, but I can't imagine having them as a
permanent part of my brain activity.

I wonder if that means that my bouts of sadness aren't really
depression, in that if they were I would not stop to think about
the philosophical issues and just take the chemicals and hope for
the relief the pharmaceutical industry promises.