Real bog. possums, mud wrestling and revenge

Rarely do I share personal letters to one person as a blog post. Before I begin I will warn you this is not my typical sex fantasy style blog. When I started this blog I was very clear it would be a real blog that covered personal conflicts as well as a forum to write erotica. My good friend reb quizzed me whether 'little s*s' was a true story. Sometimes it will be hard to tell if I am writing fact or fiction. If I have the time I can't wait to tell you the fact behind the fiction to that story. Even though it was fiction the only way I know how to write is to use true events and describe characters based on real people. Any fiction I write is bound to be based on my real life that's what makes it so interesting.

Let me apologize on being behind on correspondence once again. I have a full pm box to tackle. I have comments I can't wait to read and reply to. There is never enough time to do everything I want to accomplish. Please don't read this if you would like to focus strictly on my erotica. This post is for men who truly want to know who I am. Some men do like to go past a fantasy and find out what I experienced and learned in life. This blog is for those men. This is not a walk in the park. It is a sad story. I do not want pity. I want men to know what made me unique. Most of all I want men who tell me they love me to understand how much I love them back. Yes, I am a handful of contradictions. I'm not easy to grasp. This is not my best writing. I left out a lot of important details to make it a brief overview and not an epic tale to long to read.

It has been a hard day for me. I discussed issues with my mother so intense we both needed a shitload of xanax, solitude and a serious crying session. What we went through fucked us both up. I learned I had false memories and I blocked out things I couldn't cope with. I won't go into details but what I learned today blew my mind. I'm shaken up bad. I had memories resurface that leave me devastated. It involved many aspects of my father's death. What I lived through was replaced by visuals like an ambulance that didn't exist. The details are gory and I wish I still had an ambulance to remember. I know remember that fight to get him in a car when he was in a c***. I remember getting covered in shit and blood. I remember he lost so much weight I could carry him to the car and try to hold his head upright to keep him able to breathe.

We couldn't call an ambulance because his room was in shambles. Oxycontin was s**ttered everywhere. There were dirty syringes. There was meth, heroin, crack, pot and more in that room. My mom was at work and she couldn't leave her shift as a nurse to come home. I was alone that night fighting to keep his head upright and waiting for him to die in my arms. She wouldn't let me call an ambulance when I begged and pleaded. She was right. I was a minor and the paramedics would've reported her for d**gs and c***d neglect and ruined her career. I have no memory of that night fighting to keep him breathing. Instead I created paramedics and an ambulance.

Dave and my teddybear were quick to pick up a 'weird vibe' from me. I learned other devastating details to personal to share. I thought dave thought my vibe was his doubt about my integrity and honesty. He was just concerned for my well-being. He enjoys reading the way I reply to comments. He fears that I let too many men access my personal life and I will be manipulated and hurt. It also confuses and possibly makes him jealous how many men tell me they love me and how many men I express love for. This letter I wrote him explains the issue. I love more than one man and I need to justify that behavior. Please forgive my bad grammar. I wrote this letter in a deep state of depression. In chapter 3 'the blue dress' I told men that the same man nearly killed me twice. This explains the second time. Some men want a fantasy. Some men want to know who I really am. This is as easy as I can explain my past. The full story is too much to handle.

Dear Dave: I do suffer from major PTSD my memory is filled with events that seem hard to believe. I just had an new friend from this site also pick up a weird vibe from me. He made the strange request to give me a tarot card reading even though we are in different countries. We talked a lot about fate and destiny. I decided to let him do it even though it scares me what he may discover about who I am, my past and what the future has in store for me.

I let him know my faith in god is based on hard evidence and miraculous events. I let him know I often referred to the blog I created on facebook as 'bullshit mountain.' If I do get published writing my life story that will be my title. It hit me hard one night when I was discussing my past that most people would read it and declare 'bullshit.' If I read it without living it I would declare bullshit just like anyone else. I guess climbing to the top of a mountain made of turds and planting a flag is my purpose in life. Days like this i just feel like I'm slipping and sliding trying to climb a mountain of emotional diarrhea.

dave you are so good to me and understanding. Yes you are right a lot of men need to tell me the words I love you and hear them back. I will never refuse to give a man those words. you read my story about my fight to make my dad say it one time. I haven't written the story about begging the man i loved more than life to say it as well. I talked about our two years deeply in love and planning marriage. We told each other i love you with in a week and meant it with all our hearts.

Today was all about reliving those f******n months my dad took to die. It's true what i lived through was too much for my boyfriend to handle. He blames me for becoming an alcoholic. In so many ways it is true. He was drunk when I met him. He stayed sober as a jay bird the two years we dated. The day of my fathers funeral he couldn't come home with me and he needed a bottle. He has never had a sober day since that funeral.

The woman he married instead of me left him after eight long years living with a drunk. Fate works in strange ways. I'll never forget it. His aunt is an a****l freak. I don't know if you know about the breed of dogs called chinese cresteds. I saw my dog when he was a puppy and fell so madly in love it was ridiculous. His name was widget. He was so fucking cute every body adored him. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. I have a thousand widget stories.

My ex Tim's aunt contacted me after eight years for a special reason. We always planned to breed widget. You don't neuter an a****l that cute. She took in a dog that was truly his female equivalent. They were nearly identical. She called me and I went to her house after all those years. I fell instantly in love with widget's new girlfriend monique. While I was there she told me that tim (my ex) just had his wife (sherry)leave him and he was devastated. I never got over tim. No other man could replace him. I refused to date for the most part after he left me.

I dated one boy seriously. My lifelong best friend's little brother johnny. We grew up in church together. I was almost eight years older maybe nine. He was an eighteen year old virgin. We did fall in love. I moved in with him and his sister. It was my only normal relationship. He loved me very much. Soon after we moved in together my cousin who i barely new showed up back in town. He started dating my best friend. We had damn good times as a foursome. We were a family.

It's a long funny story to describe our problem with possums. I hate stupid people. we had our third invasion by a possum. The first one died in our house and we couldn't find the corpse. It was hysterical trying to find the decaying corpse. Possum number two was discovered. We just bought new furniture. My best friend was a gun freak. She refused to let me catch him and release him. Instead she busted out a nine milimeter gun and declared a death match. I went to the opposite side of the house to be safe.

The dumb bitch unloaded a full clip trying to hit a possum in our living room. She actually reloaded the gun and emptied another clip to shoot the poor critter into bits and pieces. The back of our new couch was riddled with bullets. one richocheted off the concrete floor and hit an expensive cabinet my mom bought us. The dumb bitch is lucky to be alive. Possum number three was the last straw.

I looked up from the computer and saw the little critter chilling on our shelves. I went to get one of the boys to safely escort him out of the house. Our four person family was destroyed. All three of my loved ones declared it rational to shoot another possum in the house. My boyfriend was a video game expert and he was able to kill him with a head shot. He splattered gore into a box of my collectibles. I have rarely been that pissed in my life. My tantrum about living with white trash morons shooting guns in the house was epic.

I grabbed enough stuff for the night and went home to stay with my mother and calm down. You have to understand the whole time i lived with my boyfriend I visited my mom and widget daily. I needed my dog. It was just irony that a month before possum three johnny brought home an abandoned kitten. I was obsessed with bottle feeding that precious creature. I spent each afternoon happily over gorging a kitten with a bottle. No cat has ever been so pampered and loved. The day after the possum was slayed was the date we scheduled to take our kitten to the vet.

I fixed johnnie from being a dork and turned him into a hot man. The vet tech gave him her number and flirted with him. We probably would be married but I had an issue. He sexually repulsed me. I can't explain it but fucking my boyfriend was like having my teeth pulled. He loved me very much but he ditched me for a chance to fuck the vet tech. I was destroyed. My best friend, my boyfriend and my cousin were all such rotten people I wasn't allowed to come home to a place i paid rent to live in to retrieve my belongings. It is a perfect example of the way people treat me.

They put all my 'shit' in garbage bags. Johnnie left them in my drive-way. A bag ripped open and he had the nerve to say 'honey that's my book.' I told him to take it and fuck off before I beat him to death. So that was my situation when i showed up at my ex's aunt's house to get a new dog. I told her she could tell tim to call me if he needed me. I could relate my whole family kicked me out.

That will always be one of the best days of my life. I worked at a dry cleaners and I was basically sisters with my friend stella. Her story is hilarious and beautiful. She bitched about never getting laid. Her husband randomly fucked her and the next day she freaked out. Some women know immediately when they conceive. On her lunch break she tried to get the morning after pill and it was not for sale in our backwoods town. She came raging back into our store announcing 'if that motherfucker knocked me up I'll cut off his dick.' Then she said I don't have the gas money to drive to lakeland for the plan B pill and i ain't getting no abortion.

Two weeks later she took a pregnancy test at work because she was so scared. I was like 'stella stop freaking the fuck out your not pregnant.' It was even a piss test you buy from the dollar tree for one dollar. The look on her face when she walked out of the bathroom will be with me for a lifetime. She truly screamed 'I'm pregnant.' I held her while she bawled and wiped away her tears. I told her if she wanted an abortion I would get the money and take her. She said she couldn't do it.

Nine months later was the day I found out tim got divorced. I took my new dog home and went to her baby shower. It was like heaven. The whole time she was pregnant I called her future daughter the plan b baby. I got home that night in such a good mood. My phone rang. After eight long years tim was on the phone. He just asked if he could come over and I was the happiest woman on the planet. I was adorable at that time in my life. My body was killer and looking sexy at work was basically a job requirement. I put on my cutest blouse and waited for my dreams to come true.

I should've known that it wouldn't work because he showed up with a six pack. I didn't care. I loved him more than myself. He took me home that night to the house he had built for his wife. It was very weird to be in my arch nemesis's house. It got even weirder. From the start he was a different man. From so much drinking he developed serious diabetes yet he still drank. It hurts too bad to talk about the two years he abused me. I could tell you stories that might make you cry.

My appearance was a big issue. The first week he let me know he would only be with a fat woman because they don't cheat. To put on weight to please him I started drinking almost as much as him. There was no way to make him happy. His best friends were all my former lovers. They adored me. He never trusted me to be faithful when no man on earth could replace him. Most of all he absolutely refused to tell me he loved me.

He would be dead if it wasn't for me. I constantly got sugar in him when he was convulsing in seizures. For two years he wouldn't let me move in. i was allowed to spend the night on friday and saturday. The abuse was non-stop. He stayed in contact with his exwife and had long chats in private. I did the math and it was damn near two years to the date he called me when I broke. God put me on autopilot. He had been outside on the phone with sherry for one hour. I timed it. I had enough.

I was only allowed one drawer for my belongings. It took me one garbage bag to get my shit. I decided to leave him one thing. I left the cute little black polka dot blouse I wore the day he called me hanging in his closet. I didn't even say goodbye. That was thursday night. He was best friends with my mongoloid cousins. They wanted us together so he could be family officially. Mongoloid cousin thomas threw a party and told me to come over. Tim was there and we had a blast. We flirted like he finally realized my worth. I was drunk and asked him if he wanted me to come back home and spend the night. He said 'sure.'

He fucked me that night like it meant something. I thought we were back together. It was saturday morning. He woke me up and said 'I need you to leave now and don't come back.' I was so devastated I couldn't even react with anger that he sport fucked me one last time just to hurt me. I went home and told my mom what he just did to me. I dug through my memory box and pulled out everything in my life that reminded me of him. For ten years I saved everything about him. Most of all I had his favorite shirt which has it's own story.

I drove back to his house and delivered a speech that would take down most men. I had practice. The speech begging my dad to say he loved me was epic. The speech begging tim to say it was even better. If i had it recorded i could put it in a play and make audiences cry. With all my soul I begged him just to say he did love me when we were in high school. He refused. He just said I'm sorry. I don't know why people are so mean to me. It doesn't make sense.

I drove out of his driveway at least satisfied nothing else could hurt me that bad. I was very wrong. On friday night tim set up a facebook account and sent me a friend request. I accepted not thinking of the ramifications. I noticed a huge new pool in his yard when I was begging him to say he loved me. Sunday afternoon I crawled out of bed to visit my best friend and my cousin. I just happened to scroll facebook and I saw my present.

It was all planned. It was coordinated. He had been working out the details since before he fucked me the last time. He threw a party for all our friends. This is how people treat me. It was no normal party. This was a female mud wrestling party for the wives of my former boyfriends and the next girl he planned to date. It was three fat bitches who hated me wrestling in mud. The pictures were planned for shock value just for me. The last one was too much. It was the girl he planned to fuck standing next to our bad. She had my towel wrapped around her head. She was holding my toothbrush. She was wearing the shirt I brought him that afternoon. She had a shit eating victory grin on her face.

It broke my mind. I didn't have much money or i would be dead. I should be dead anyway. I didn't have enough pills. Only alcohol can kill me. I couldn't afford a gallon of vodka. I could afford an eighteen case of natural light. I didn't want to die alone. I thought my best friend and cousin would stop me. I let them know I was going to kill myself. I sat down beside my cousin on the floor. I knew my only chance was to drink it all so quickly I overdosed. eighteen beers wouldn't kill me. eighteen beers in thirty minutes or less combined with all my xanax would.

You will never see a girl drink so fast. I don't play around when I try to die. My anatomy is not normal. I should've passed out. i didn't. This is what happens in bullshit mountain. This is the way people treat me. In one instant I was suddenly sober and confused and dying. My best friend weighed three hundred pounds. She had her knees on my chest and I couldn't breath. I told you what she did to the possum. She was doing it to me. She had my head in her hands and she was slamming it against the concrete floor with all her strength. It was no air and constant head blows slamming my skull open.

I got lucky. She adjusted positions and I was able to bite her hand hard enough to get her off of me. It's too long of a story to explain. I heard the word miracle the minute I took a breathilizer. That night in the er it was a joke to have officers and nurses take turns giving me a breathilizer. I got could a fluke of nature. I remember one cop giving me a thumbs up and a congratulations. I had cracked ribs, I had a serious life threatening head wound, I had a lethal alcohol level. There is no reason I should be typing this.

The nurse in the mental ward was my salvation. She gave me thirty minutes and told me to use the phone and get out of there with no baker act on my record. We both cried when I was forced to call the man who put me in the mental ward to beg him for a ride. I wasn't about to beg him for a goddamn thing. I told him he killed me, I came back to life, I was in the mental ward. I told him he had thirty minutes to get his ass to the hospital and take me home. I didn't play games. I was serious.

I told him if I got committed there were serious repurcussions. It was an epic speech. I let him know I would burn down his house, his parents house, his grandfathers house, his grandma's trailer and kill his dog. I told him to try me. They were all on the same property and he had to work during the day. I let him know I would burn down everything he owned and do life for murder with no qualms. I scared the shit out of him. He showed up humiliated and ashamed of himself.

That is why it is ironic that men need to tell me I'm loved. I've never been the same since I left the hospital. I'm still in recovery. My life is still precarious. People hurt me and I don't trust anyone not to do it to me. Not even you. I love you dearly but I'm prepared to have you hurt me. Everyone does. When I tell many men I love them I mean it. But after that night I expect pain. I give people love any way I can. I will probably never belong to just one man. I plan to love as many men as possible as long as I can as hard as possible.

More details: Johnnie moved the vet tech in. She lied about being on the pill and got knocked up in less than a month. She couldn't handle my former best friend and casey and insisted the house be split into a duplex. She was a compulsive shopper who collected a****ls. Johnnie was forced to live in a tiny space with three dogs and five cats. The smell of shit drove him insane. He was too young for fatherhood but he pulled it off. My best friend didn't pay rent. My cousin didn't pay rent. The vet tech didn't pay rent. Kicking me out lost the only person in that house that paid bills. Johnny was forced to move after he destroyed his side of the duplex with so much shit it was uninhabitable.

The vet tech started cheating and left him for another man and abandoned her son for him to raise. He was forced to move back in with his parents. After I left tim I hooked right back up with johnnie. We really loved each other. He had to sneak me in the house and fuck me in secret. We had one beautiful day together when I made him take me and his son to the beach. He immediately called me mommy. I had the joy of letting the vet tech see me in the car with her ex-husband after a day at the beach with her baby. Revenge is sweet. If you date me once be prepared to date me twice. We couldn't be together when he was forced to live with his parents. I had to let him go and move on.

I never got an explanation why my best friend tried to kill me during a suicide attempt. Her excuses were never rational. I forgave her. The only reason I'm alive is she told me she planned to call the police and tell them I stole her gun, pulled it on her, assaulted her in her house drunk and my cousin would confirm her story. I truly was not drunk despite my alcohol consumption. She tried to force me out of the house barefoot, without car keys, my cell phone or my purse on a cold winter night through a bad neighborhood miles from my house. That wasn't happening. She was scared of me and I let her know she could get all 'my shit' or prepare for a fight when I wasn't pinned and on a rampage to destroy everything she owned. I got what I demanded. I drove home basically blinded by waves of bright light caused by my concussion.

I decided a gun charge would give me hard time and a record for battery. I told my mom my best hope to escape jail was to call in a baker act and document a mental breakdown that could save me jail time. I can't remember the blood alcohol level I blew. The cope was convinced his device malfunctioned. He didn't believe me that I drove myself home. He told me it should be impossible not to be blacked out with a level that high. He had no concern about a baker act. I was in critical condition. He was totally perplexed that I was entirely coherent. My mom knew I needed xanax and she slipped me pills despite my lethal level of alcohol.

The cop was so worried about my alcohol level he didn't even think to look at my head wound. I don't even remember pain. I just remember those rhythmic cycles of white light leaving me blind. Without threatening to put me in jail I would've died. I planned to go home and take a shitload of pills and sleep but I knew her accusations would make me a felon. In the ambulance my head was finally examined. The paramedic let me know if I went to sleep with a concussion that severe it was a death sentence. I reached up and touched my head and I realized it was split and blood was pouring out of my head and my hair was matted with blood.

They didn't take me to the local hospital. They took me to one in tampa equipped with better diagnostic test to treat people in critical condition. I was warned I may have brain damage that would cause me to lose motor skills and higher level thinking. I explained my rib cage felt crushed and i couldn't breath. They had to put me on oxygen. I was immediately put on IV fluids to lower my blood alcohol level. I'm not good with numbers so I don't remember how high it was. The paramedics told me point blank that a baker act was the least of their concerns. Even in the ambulance I was told it was a miracle and that God wasn't ready for me yet.

I owe around twenty grand to that hospital. My brain went through so many scans, x-rays and tests I stopped counting. My ribs underwent serious x-rays. I had cracked ribs. I was told they were so fucked up it was a miracle they didn't snap and puncture a lung. I had to be bound and stay on oxygen for half the night. I don't remember how many staples or sutures it took to close my head wound. I remember that process hurt like hell. Doctors debated whether I needed my stomach pumped. They focused on keeping me on IV fluids. They didn't want to give me charcoal treatments to induce vomiting when I had cracked ribs. They decided it wasn't a high enough level to kill as it lowered with fluids and time for my body to recover.

No one could explain that I could speak coherently, I had no slurring speech, I could walk a straight line, pass a field sobriety test, drive and seemed entirely sober. The entire ER wanted to meet me. When one cop told another cop to give me a breathilizer and talk to me they did it. I remember the thumbs up more than anything. He tried to break me. I recited the alphabet backwards. I answered history questions. I solved math problems. I was asked to read. I had to walk. I had to balance on one foot and touch my nose. He tried to explain what I blew meant I should be passed out. All he could say was 'damn girl you can handle your liquor.' After the thumbs up he told me he would never forget me.

Tim said one thing to me when I called 'Was it the pictures.' I said yes. I didn't even berate him. I let him feel like a monster without a verbal confrontation. The nurse in the mental ward berated him so hard it was epic. She told him she met a lot of cruel men but anyone who would fuck a girl, kick her out, throw a mud wrestling party with pictures to torment her was so fucking nasty she told him he was a monster and she prayed he suffered for that kind of abuse. She let him know she talked to me and I was beautiful, sweet, intelligent, special and I would find a real man with class not a sorry abusive drunk that goes to extremes to inflict pain on a good woman. She told him he should be truly humiliated and ashamed of that kind of torment. She told him I should be dead because of him. She told him I feel sorry for any woman who suffers the abuse you inflict for no reason. The last thing she said was you are a monster that belongs in a mental ward not the girl you tortured for shits and giggles. He couldn't say a word.

The girl in the picture was his spite fuck. She made the mistake of introducing him to her cousin. He quickly married her. I saw him at a local restaurant with his new wife. I was at a booth with a chick friend. He was sitting in the next booth facing me. He wasn't joking about finding a fat woman. She had to weigh four hundred pounds. She had a face like a haggard old horse. I realized he couldn't be with me because I'm pretty. You could see him writhing in agony I just gave him a shit eating grin. I found out from his aunt she is more of an alcoholic than he is. She got pregnant and still drank. Because I saved his life he has a son now.

After my suicide attempt my mom took care of the situation. The next day she walked into his house like she owned the place. She had no fear of his ferocious pit ball. She had no concern both of his parents happened to be there. If I scare people my mom terrifies people. Her speech was clear and basic. 'You fucked my daughter for sport, you kicked her out and told her not to come back, you broke her heart refusing to say you ever loved her, you used facebook pictures of cunts wrestling in mud to torment her. If she commits suicide over your abuse you better be ready. You have three days left to live. That's how long it takes for me to get a gun permit. If she dies I swear on the bible I'll put a bullet between your eyes. You will never contact her again. If you try I'll fucking kill you. I want to hear you say you will never speak to her again.' He said the words. She left with one final warning. You better be afraid of me because I will kill you motherfucker. Then she stormed out.

I don't know why he did it. He told my mongoloid cousins she came to his house and truly pulled a gun on him I had to ask her if she did. She said you know I don't have a gun but my threat was real. My mongoloid cousins tried to plot how to put her in jail. Even her brother turned against her and told my grandmother she deserved hard time for pulling a gun on someone. No one in my family believes she didn't have a gun when she made that threat. Tim was too scared to fuck with her and follow my mongoloids plot to press charges. He loves to brag that we are both two crazy bitches. He won't live long. He is in liver failure and won't quit drinking. Damn straight I'm going to that funeral with a shit eating grin on my face. If he has a tombstone I plan to piss on it as soon as it's in the ground.

one final note. I got revenge on two out of three of the bitches who wrestled in mud. Our close friend came to town and planned a reunion for all of us. Tim didn't show up. I was dressed to kill. It was the fanciest restaurant in town. My pants were a tight sexy red with an embroidered pattern. My blouse was a tight little black spaghetti strap work of art that was classy not slutty. I showed just enough cleavage to fuck with everyone at the table. I wore sexy black heels. I even wore a long sexy silver necklace with funky matching earrings. I wore my sexiest wig. I had a sexy new black purse. I didn't wear a drop of make-up. I looked fucking hotter than ever. One of the fat bitches may not even know I kissed her boyfriend before she did. She was in jeans and she looked like trash. Her husband never got over me and she knew we had chemistry. That got her in the mud to torment me.

I should've married a boy named alex. Our love story is epic. He accidentally knocked up a chick and her parents insisted they got married. When I dated tim he never stopped flirting with me in front of his wife. She knew about our past. We have never been able to keep our hands off each other. The last time tim through a party I tried to escape the sexual tension to smoke a cigarette alone on the back porch. Alex couldn't resist. He came outside with me shut the sliding glass door and tried to learn everything about me. His wife was glaring at us. Tim was glaring at us. Our talk was innocent but our body language was clear. After that party tim never had his friends over. He went to alex's house and refused to take me.

I know exactly why she got in the mud and helped make pictures. I got to see how she changed. Damn she put on weight. She was also in jeans. She was wearing one of those baggy rebirth eighties shirts. It was even tackier with black and white horizontal stripes. She couldn't look at me and we ended up sitting next to each other. Alex grew up to be one sexy motherfucker. His wife has no shot of keeping him long. She even bitched about having to have a front tooth pulled due to infection. I giggled. One of the girls was not in the mud but I stole her boyfriend in high school. I like her but we were rivals. She was actually nice to me. Sherry the woman who stole tim in the first place became a good friend online.

She put on so much weight it was freaky. She was dressed like white-trash wearing a sweater identical to one my great aunt wore. She couldn't look at me. None of the women at the table could look at me. In the restaurant I was sophisticated, classy and demure. We took smoke breaks and I made all the boys crack up laughing. I may be sexy but the best thing about me is my wit and sense of humor. I was ready to leave knowing I beat all the women I competed with. I didn't expect it. Alex couldn't resist it. I was staring right at his wife on accident. He looked nervous. He busted out with 'lynn it's so nice to see you, you look fantastic, and he gave me a long deep hug pressing up against me.' I got to see his wife's jaw drop and her face filled with fury. When I get revenge I don't need mud and pictures. I do it in person, dressed to kill with style and grace.