Friday, June 29, 2018


I grew up with a lot of physical and psychological abuse.

It quite literally makes me want to turn around and inflict the same pain back onto the world.

I keep that dark side of myself under tight lock and key.

It slips out when I drink.

I hate pain. I hate people who try to manipulate me psychologically.

I am not a masochist in the least bit, but sometimes I tolerate it because I'm used to enduring pain.

In my experience, letting it happen and pass is easier than retaliation.

I hate myself for not speaking up.

I hate myself for being afraid to speak up.

I hate myself for taking it as if I am getting what I deserve.

Deep down, I just want to be held and loved, but I just don't feel like anyone cares about what I want or need.

I feel so much rage and anger.

It's like my blood is boiling underneath my skin and I fantasize about inflicting the pain I feel onto others.

I've put myself on lockdown until this anger subsides.

I'm so mad at myself for being so docile, I want to hit something.

I've been playing Injustice2 so I can direct my aggression at a game instead of people.

This is one of many reasons I am afraid to have kids because my mom and grandma used to take everything out on me.

I'm starting to see it was never about me, I wish I could tell my inner child that.

I wish I could go back and tell myself abuse is not love.

But all I can really do, is be better.

Break the cycle.

Friday, June 22, 2018


Today's one of those days I'm trapped in the Hell of my own mind.

I can't stop thinking and fixating on my abusive family.

I guess I'm starting with psychological abuse.

Preference for boys vs girls: 

My grandma used to tell me about her miscarriage (a son) before being pregnant with my mom.

She also took the liberty to tell me about my mom's abortion (also a son) before being pregnant with me.

My grandma also enjoyed creating hypotheticals for me because if she never had the miscarriage, the timing, she could not have ever been pregnant with my mom.

She questioned what if my mom never got her abortion, again timing, my mom could not have ever been pregnant with me.

In China there's a preference over males because men carry down the family name. Sons are expected to take care of their parents when they get old. Daughters are expected to be married off and go and take care of her husbands parents.

When I was 16yrs old applying for college I even recall my mom saying, "If you were a boy, I would get 3 jobs to put you through an Ivy League education, but you are just a girl". Hence I was not allowed to apply to an Ivy League school because it wasn't we couldn't afford it, my mom just didn't see the point.

The gender preference was a type of psychological abuse.

Slut Shaming and Misandry: 

My grandma used to slut shame me. I left China when I was 7yrs old.

Even before I left for China, I remember her saying shit like keep your legs closed. Guys only want one thing. She used to tell me to focus on my career, that boys will always be there.

I returned to China 2 years after I left. I was 9yrs old and I wore a pair of fake clip on earrings because I wanted my grandma to be like "Wow look how mature or older you look".

First thing out of her mouth, "You look like a slut/whore." (in Chinese). Again I was 9yrs old, and that was not the response I expected.

I remember being 11yrs old, my mom just met my (now ex) step dad. My grandma would ask me disgusting questions if he touched me, or if I had older boy neighbors that would touch me when I was home alone after school.

I don't know what happened to my grandma. My grandpa was the most caring and thoughtful man but my grandma was sick, vile, vulgar and her mouth was just repulsive.

My mom once said if she let my dad have custody and raise me, I would be a slut. Yes when she used the "expression" it was in English.

My mom used to tell me to marry for money, and in my head I would protest because I wanted to marry for love.

I was always such a hopeless romantic and I imagined myself being happy living in a box on the street if I had my soulmate by my side.

Till this day, I can't stand guys who throw money around as if it would impress me because I know money doesn't buy love nor happiness.

I'm happy with "poor, poor and perfect" and when Buttercup says it, sometimes I just burst into tears because I understand.

When I was 14-15yrs old, my mom told me that every guy she's ever dated or married has either cheated on her or she was the other woman. Then she proceeded to tell me that, "All men cheat, if they don't do it, they think about it."

Abandonment and feeling un-wanted: 

My mom left me in China when I was 7yrs old for Canada. Her parents and my dad had joint custody, 1 month here, 1 month there.

When Mother's day came around and kids would sing a song that roughly translates to "On this planet/Earth only mom/mother is the best/good". I used to think to myself, "I wouldn't know".

When I was about 4 or 5yrs old, my dad tried to pick me up from my grandparents house one night, drunk, and I didn't want to go. According to the story, he tried to hit me and my grandma blocked it. He was asked to leave and the next day he brought over all my stuff and "severed" our ties. I've seen him once since that day.

I remember a time where my mom was hanging out with my (ex) step-dad and she says to me, "Don't you have homework to do?". I felt like I was in the way of her dating. It was that thought, that first made me want to commit suicide. I'm not sure if I would have remembered it if I did not find the note (found last March, 2017) I wrote dated 1998. I was a child and my mom made me feel like I kept her from living her life and being happy.

Pity, sense of responsibility, duty: 

My grandma used to tell me about her sad life where she was always the victim. She used to make me feel so bad for her it made me sad. I remember dreams where I couldn't describe it as a kid, but as an adult, best I can describe it is I was a balloon being blown up and I felt like I couldn't be contained and I was about to explode. I think those dreams were the my first signs of feeling anxious or "under pressure".

That's just mind fucking. It doesn't even cover the physical abuse.

There's a Chinese saying, "Hitting is affection/closeness. Scolding/yelling/criticism is love." (This is definitely psychological abuse, but I'm putting it under physical because this was the justification of their physical abuse.)

My grandma used to beat my with the back of a broom handle that was kept in her closet. It got to the point that every time she even looked or headed towards the closet, I was afraid. I would run for the bathroom because it was the only place in the apt with a lock on the door.

My mom hit me. The worst was when she realized I didn't practice piano during a piano lesson. She dragged me from my piano bench, by the hair, across the floor to the kitchen. Grabbed her rolling pin (for dough, which was essentially a wooden stick with an inch diameter) and beat my ass. My ass was black and blue almost instantaneously and she felt bad, but it was done.

There were times she would just say to me, "I've had a long day, I'm too tired to beat you. Hit yourself for me." I, like a dumbass would just be on my knees and bashing my own head with my fists. I was 9 or 10yrs old. (Again, I would categorize that as more psychological abuse than physical).


My grandma once told me a story about how (before my dad dropping me off at my grandparents for good, so before 4-5yrs old, I don't remember this...) I kissed my uncle on the lips, as she tells the story. She asked why I did that and I said, (according to her), "I saw my dad kiss someone else like that".

The only time I saw my dad after being a kid was when I was in my early teenage years. I just hit puberty and started to wear a bra. My mom thought maybe I wanted to know my dad. I remember being in the elevator with him and my mom's mom (grandma) and I felt something on my shoulder. When I looked it was him apparently trying to tuck my bra strap back underneath my tank top, but it didn't feel like that. It felt sexual. I did not feel comfortable.

I remember my mom kissed me one morning, and my response was "Ew you just French kissed me" and she was surprised I knew what it meant. (9-11yrs range not sure how old). But my mouth was closed, and she tonged the outside of my mouth.

All these different forms of abuse that made me feel so insignificant, unwanted, a burden. I'm starting to look back and question how much that really had to do with me.


I'm starting to wonder maybe I was just a punching bag.


What I know, my mom feared for her life when she was married to my dad, that was the reason for her abortion. She told me how she used to check for a gun in his briefcase when he came home or how she would stand with her back against a post while waiting for the subway because she feared being pushed down into the tracks.

I was the product of a relationship where she feared for her life. My dad was a bully. I'm not even sure the extent of the abuse she had to endure. All I knew was that he swept her off her feat, he danced like Prince Charming and my grandpa did not like him. My grandpa was such a good judge of character, I think that alone should have told me enough, but my mom was stubborn and rebellious.

When I put the pieces together, given the fact he was abusive, the way she treated me and made me feel.

I can only come to one conclusion, that I indeed was not wanted. I was the product of an abusive husband/marriage, she ran away from that relationship to Canada and left me with her parents.

I am pretty sure the reason why she's cut ties with me now, is because truthfully speaking, she never wanted me to begin with and I'm a constant reminder of my dad.

Last time I saw her, she made these "jokes". She took a look at my pink combat boots (she loves combat boots) and she says, "So you are my daughter after all". The tone and comment suggested that she thinks we have nothing in common and the only sign of proof was that we have similar tastes in shoes.

I mean her marriage was so on the rocks she got an abortion before me.


My grandma, middle of her 2 sisters. Her older sister was start and pretty. Her younger sister was cuter and well younger. My grandma was... I don't know how to explain it. I wonder if maybe she was a lesbian. Her pictures looked butch. She was misandrous and she always questioned me as if I had been molested or raped.

I mean even before I hit puberty. I do not recall any type of sexual abuse. But maybe the story of me kissing my uncle (before age 5, before I could remember) wasn't quite the way she told it. Did I really see my dad kissing someone else on the lips and I was mimicking him and his actions?

The causes are speculation.


My mom makes me feel like I am indebted to her for raising me. I wonder if that's because she didn't want to have anything to do with me and she felt obligated to raise me.

My grandma made me feel like men are nasty and I am just a toy to them. I just don't understand because she was married to my grandpa. How can she be married to such a thoughtful man and harbor so much hate for them?

My whole life I've been pro-abortion, and I never wanted children because there was always someone who made me feel like I was not wanted.

I am so complacent with pain, when I'm being hurt, or when I am being treated as if I am nothing because that's all I know. Not only is it what I know, it's what I've been told is love.

But I hate it. I hate being hurt, I just want to be cared for.

I don't want to be hurt anymore. I don't want to be under the impression that pain is love.

I need to break the cycle.

Thursday, June 21, 2018

House Arrest:

I've left my apt once in the last week and it was to go to work on Monday night.

There's a part of me that is thankful I have that as a reason to quite literally pick myself up from my bed and force myself to step outside my apartment.

I thought about going to Chinatown for food that reminds me of home.

I thought about going to see Deadpool2 and the new Incredibles movie.

I need to pick up my Rx of birth control at the pharmacy but the thought of stepping outside of me apt and walking a block is paralyzing.

I thought about going to a meeting. I also thought about going to church.

I fantasized about going to the driving range to hit a bucket of balls. Since I can't go shooting in the city, I wondered if my old pass times would help me release the rage I feel.

I considered going to get a new piecing or tat so that I could feel a bit of physical pain because I was curious if that would distract me.

When it comes down to it, I can barely get myself out of bed.

I can't pinpoint why I feel so sad, so unmotivated.

It would be naive to call it depression because I've never quite felt like this before.

I get flashes of random ways to off myself but those images are unsolicited.

Suicide seems too effortful. I have no desire to harm myself in the direct sense of trying to kill myself.

I'm angry and I want to cause pain.

I'm scared and I want to be held.

I'm stressed, tired and I just want to know how I can get passed this.

Every day, I tell myself I'm going to get myself out of the house today. I tell myself that, "Today is the day."

But come 7pm, I'm sleepy and next thing I know it's the crack of dawn and a new day has started.

Everyone seems like they want something from me but I've got nothing to give.

I can let them use me like the shell of a woman that I feel, but somehow I know it will leave me feeling even more empty.

I already know because that's what I let the dick do. I just let him use me, and that was all on me.

I tried to ask for a hug, and he held me until I let go. If I held on any longer, I might have bursted into tears and I've done that plenty of times in the past.

I tried to tell him he was hurting me but I want him to be satisfied.

I need to try harder to communicate my desires to him, instead of just letting him do his thing and hope he does something I like, which for the most part, I enjoy.

I want him to be happy because I'm trying my best to keep it together for him. Even if I'm pretending I'm ok, I think maybe I can "fake it till I make it".

He's the most interesting person I've ever met, and I'm afraid if he's not satisfied or happy with me, my ball of crazy just won't be worth his time.

He reminds me a lot of myself.

Strong yet broken. Fiercely independent almost to a stubborn and unnecessary extent.

Talented in countless ways with a sexual drive that gives mine a run for it's money.

I sense a familiar internal struggle within him like me, one where we are doing what we want for ourselves, vs conforming to outside influences of family/society.

Aware of our darkness and imperfections, we also strive to put good back into the world.

He liked my drive and I'm afraid my lack of motivation is incredibly unattractive.

I drank on Monday, unfortunately that's just what happens when an alcoholic works in a bar. I know alcohol is a depressant so I've been trying my best to lay off of it.

In the past two weeks I've smoked a handful of times, in an attempt to taper off instead of cold turkey. Roughly half a gram, which is considerably modest in my opinion. I want to give it a break because I know amotivational syndrome is real.

I may not be able to leave my apt, but perhaps I've put myself under some type of house arrest to detox?

There's just so much to it.

I'm afraid of people because I feel insecure.

I'm afraid people want more than I am willing or capable of giving.

I feel empty.

I see my words and I know they are all signs that point to certain labels or diagnoses.

This is my way of trying to stabilize myself.

Admit my shortcomings so I can try harder to be better because today is a new day.

I share because I don't think I'm alone.

I share in case someone else feels my pain and they know they are not alone.

I share to make my "quiet desperation" not so quiet because I deeply understand when Thoreau said, "the mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation". 

Monday, June 18, 2018

Ongoing Consent:

As unsexy as it sounds, communication is critical before, during and after any sexual encounter.

It's important to express likes, dislikes, limits. 

For me, I don't like to talk about what I like because then people just predictably go for the "slam dunk". 

Quite frankly that's like Shaq going for the basket, yeah 80-90% of the time he will make the basket in the paint but there's just no excitement in that because that's his specialty. 

I've got spots on my body where I can get so aroused from someone kissing or teasing, it actually annoys me because I don't like someone having that much power over me.

I had an ex that knew my spot, I didn't want to hook up with him because he was dating my friend. He went for my "spot" and for a moment, I pounced on him and I couldn't control that sexual hunger. I was so aroused, I grabbed his face and I almost kissed him but I gained control of my faculties before I did. 

I just don't want to know the play by play, nor do I want someone to have that type of control. 

Pet names, or what's the term.... certain .... fuck I'm bad with sex terms... certain like... names like "bitch", "slut", "master", "sir", "miss", "mistress", "daddy" etc should be discussed prior. 

Just because someone is dominant or submissive does not necessarily mean they like to be called a certain name. 

For me, I have "bitch", "cunt", "slut", "whore" filtered from my MFC chatroom. 

Just because someone says yes to one thing, does not mean they said yes to everything, keep checking in with each other. 

Just because someone likes something in the past, doesn't mean that's what they want in the current moment. 

If it feels uncomfortable, stop. 

Sometimes I like it hard, rough and it's animalistic. Hair pulling, spanks, dirty talk, grunts. 

Sometimes I like sweet soft and sensual. Kisses, eye contact, sharing a breath. 

I really like my current sex partner. 

We've always talked a lot about sex and I feel safe with him sexually because I've never communicated the way I do with him. I've never even bothered trying. 

He gives me a little bit of both, soft and hard, and he's the least predictable of all my past lovers. 

I think because I feel safe, I fail to speak. 

I know I have the tendency to please, and I put others above me, but it's just not healthy. 

I should try to express myself more. 

Poor guy. 

I can't expect him to just know if I don't say anything. 

I don't think I ever realized how the aftercare was so subconscious. 

I don't think I every realized how much I treasured napping/sleeping with someone. 

There's so much I want to do but there never seems like there's enough time. 

I should trust my instincts more, and remember it's those instincts that lead me to the roof sex. 

But despite how long of a span we've been fucking, I'm still lacking the comfort to lead. 

I wonder how much the impulse control has to do with drinking. 

I usually prefer a couple of drinks when I socialize so that I am able to speak my mind better. 

I didn't at all last time. 

I think I was thinking more of like, a walk to a park, kissing and seeing what we can get away with in public. 

As he would say, something to look forward to I guess. 

I just needed to remind myself to not be afraid to speak up, and lead because he deserves it. 

Saturday, June 16, 2018

Shell of a Woman:

I feel drained.

Emotionally, physically, mentally.

I'm sad, alone, and I feel completely empty on the inside.

When people text me to hang out, it's never simple.

I feel like there are always ulterior motives.

I need to start learning to just say "no" because things never go how I expect them to.

Wish they had an app where people just want to cuddle.

I just want a hug and to watch a movie.

I feel like in terms of ulterior motives, women are even worse than men because men typically just want sexual things.

I try to be transparent and honest with people.

I wish people treated me with the same respect.

The way people treat me sometimes, I feel like I'm not even a person.

I feel like the shell of a woman with nothing to give, yet people just keep asking and taking.

I want to scream and tell them to stop.

I don't know how not to feel so miserable.

I went to the roof of a 40 story building and I couldn't help but think about making a sexy video then taking a leap off the ledge to fly like those did on 9/11.

I don't want to die. I just imagined myself free falling into bliss.

I'm exhausted, and I want to know that things will be ok.

But it just feels like my world is spinning out of control and I'm just begging the universe to stop.

Friday, June 15, 2018


One of the things I've always admired about my mom was her strength.

The month I graduated college, my mom cut me off financially despite the fact that I was not employed.

Since then, I've never expected help from her or anyone else.

I once had a guy say to me "You are you're own power couple".

In an odd way, that's what I wanted.

These days I just feel lost and tired.

I always felt like if I just kept going and moving that I would have this magical "Eureka" moment where everything makes sense.

But I'm exhausted and I have no idea what I'm doing or where I'm going.

My family was always my guidance and without them, I'm trying to learn how to live for myself.

I so desperately want to find my own happiness from within and not my surroundings.

But how?

Is everyone super good at faking it? Or am I just a shit mess?

Realistically speaking, it's probably a little of both.

I don't even know where to begin to clean things up and it is showing.

I'm slipping and I'm cracking.

Making a hard effort to start from within and let's see if I can not blaze for a bit.

I'm always about experimenting to see what the outcome is, and that's something that's been a constant for some time and I am curious what my baseline is.

My relationship with alcohol is getting out of control. I love my creativity and how I can sometimes connect those weird feelings to words when I drink. But as honest as I am when I'm drunk, I'm no longer creative and it's hurting me.

Maybe this whole time I've just been a car on a two dimensional plane, bouncing around like a caffeinated spider.

But I need to be a plane and travel up.

Everything just seems so bleak.

I used to think I've got things under control.

Now, I'm constantly thinking, "What am I doing?".

I can't even tell if I'm trying or I've given up.

Is it possible to feel both simultaneously?

Perhaps trying but not hard enough or I'm not trying yet but I want to?

I feel like I need a hug. To curl up and be reassured that it will be ok.

I just don't know how much longer I can hold myself together.

This isn't a cry for help.

Just my way of venting so I can get it out, see it in front of me.

A feeble way of trying.

Trying to be better.

I know I can get back there, but I'm frozen on the "how?".

1 week without bud is not enough to even get my appetite back.


I need to be the one who tells myself it will be ok.

I'm smart and I got this stupid thing called "life".

Adulting is so much harder than people make it look.

How is it so effortless for some?

I just wish my mom would text me and ask me if I'm ok.

I'll tell her things are great but I just need to know she actually cares.

Then part of me screams out, "NO!" because I wonder if that's just the twisted desperation of an abused puppy speaking and it doesn't know any better.

Again, I need to find the strength within me to pick myself back up.

Am I being stubborn?

I don't really know how to bring myself to part from my bed today, but I need to.

I need to be better.

I do not want to be in this same place next year.

I don't want to feel so stuck.

I want to look in the mirror and see someone worth loving.

I just don't know where my confidence went.

Not to mention my Muse.

I feel like I'm failing at life and I am painfully uninspired.

I get little glimmers of hope but I'm not quick enough to catch them.

I wish I could have Flash abilities.

But I'm just a human. Mortal.

I want to get better because I fear if I don't I'm going to lose everyone around me.

For once in my life I'm trying to keep people in my life.

Lois may be human but I am not a damsel because I can and I will save myself.

I want to look like Wonder Woman with Flash powers.

My brain is all over the place and I'm not even sure if all this verbal non-sense helped.

But I know, I'm trying. 

It's literally baffling to me how we don't choose to be born, yet I feel indebted to the people who choose to not abort me.

It was my mom's choice to have me. She could have aborted me like the pregnancy before me and I would never be alive as my grandma so kindly told me as a teenager.

I shouldn't have to feel guilty for wanting to live life for myself instead of them.

I don't know how to unburden myself.

I just know I'm tired of carrying so much weight on my shoulders.

Watching Sir Paul sing me Hey Jude via YouTube was a pick me up.

Tuesday, June 12, 2018

Dear Diary:

Today was a weird day.

I mean.... I woke up to a series of texts and a lot of people said things that were extremely flattering.

My first text exchange of the day I had a guy friend text me saying "Hope all is well miss that beautiful face lol". It picked me up because all women like to be told their beautiful, and it's nice to be missed.

Then I responded to a text from the guy/company who buys my jewelry in bulk. He was responding to a message I sent from the previous day saying "Anything to get your jewelry in the hands of happy customers." I replied saying "Thank you so much for your support. I've been feeling painfully uninspired. Your responses mean a lot!". He called me instantly asking me "What's up? Why?". So I started to explain I came back from the jewelry show in Vegas and I just felt not only burnt from making thousands of pieces that went unsold but all of the stuff got shipped back into my apt and I'm buried in STUFF. My mind is all over the place, I had all these ideas pulling me in all directions and I let the voices of my family calling my passion a "gig" get to me.

He started giving me ideas on how to market, gave me a direction, and I just blurted out "Thank you, I love you". I mean I have a problem saying "I love you" but sometimes in the spur of the moment it comes out because I love them. He replied saying "I'm in love with you". It wasn't like for serious but it was still so weird to hear someone say it. It made me uncomfortable for a split moment but then I accepted it. I understood what he meant, and I swallowed the compliment as it was. I mean yes he's a very sexy man but I can't pinpoint why I feel weird about our exchanges. Perhaps it's because I'm in love with him and his wife and I don't know why she's not in the picture at the moment. Perhaps it's because I don't like the idea of mixing business and pleasure. I mean he makes me feel so good about myself because he supports and PRAISES my creations so much, but something feels off. I blame myself for this feeling because I accidentally sent a picture that showed a little too much of me (as in vagina and all), but I'm also relieved that someone is so accepting of all my crazy.

I took his call in my car and I finished it out side of work. I stepped into work and the night was different too.

It was a quiet night. My manager told me he was happy to see my because I give him "hope".

I spent a lot of time thinking about how to rebrand my jewelry, new name, new logo. I doodled on countless napkins with new ideas.

I spoke to a guy, told him my age and he literally stood up and was like "ok bye".

Never in my life have I ever had someone react this way like I was "too old". (This guy was well into his 60s+, so it made it extra fucked up). Usually people like my age, I'm not a woman in my 20s. I've got time under my belt, educated, well traveled and if you're lucky, I'm pretty funny. He was talking to me about Thailand and Indonesia, then he started to talk to my friend who's dark skinned about Africa and Ethiopia... How rude, ignorant, racist can you be?

His card got declined and he tried to return his drink....

My mom, grandma, they all taught me how to be a lady and classy. That was fucking ratchet.

At this point, I just want to go home.

Get home, hop on cam and on some level it's like I can breathe.

Guys were nice, and I knew someone that came by and showed me mad love.

Did a private with him and we played with my butt.

See, another thing that made my day so all over the place. I never do butt stuff.

But yesterday and today I was like, "Let's put stuff in my butt".

For the first time, I enjoyed myself. I mean with stuff in my butt. Haha. I mean normally it's so weird and I low-key hate it. But my relationship with anal is weird like that. Purely the definition of insanity... I keep trying it hoping for a different result, but today I actually did get a different result it was rather enjoyable.

So my cam day kind of made up for how shitty my work day went.

I'm thankful to know that there's a person or people out there who truly do love my creations and they support it 1000%.

Maybe I'm afraid their interest in my work is based on the accidental picture I sent but I have to remind myself that our partnership started well before that and the fact that it the picture didn't deter them should be a good thing.

I'm trying not to let some idiot's reaction to my age get to me but as a woman who's been working in the adult industry for 8yrs, I know my time is limited and it's a daunting fear.

Days like this I want to curl up in the arms of my fav Dick and just cry but we don't have that type of "relationship". I've broken down into tears in his arms countless times but I feel like it's unfair to put those feelings onto him because we simply fuck. Despite all the chaos, when he responds to my texts, it always surprises me because they are so unexpected yet perfect and comforting.

Admittedly, I know I'm in love with him and I'm trying my best not to let my insecurities get in the way, but I can't help but think "No, I can't. It's not fair to him". I feel like the shell of a woman and I've got nothing to give. I'm sad and uninspired. I'm completely lost. I don't even know who I am anymore. I don't understand how he feels about me, all I know is I'm honest with him, I try to be transparent, he sticks around and makes me happy. It annoys me that he makes me happy because I don't want my "happiness" to be dependent on another, I want it to come from within me. I miss him all the time.

Maybe I'm so bothered by hearing a guy tell me he's in love with me and it's not coming from the mouth of my favorite dick. But realistically speaking, I don't ever expect to hear those words from him. I take our courtship for what it is and I'm grateful because honestly, I don't even like me right now.

I think my point is that the majority of my day, I felt appreciated while not having the self-esteem like I deserve the praise.

My buyer said, we can't just go to sleep in hopes that we would wake up feeling inspired.

That's what I've been trying to do. Sleep until I wake up one day feeling like my confident self.

He advised me to do something that calms me before bed. Dumping my thoughts out on a blog has always helped me clear my mind.

I'm hoping all those napkins are a sign that my Muse is watching over my shoulders again. I've so desperately missed her energy. I know she doesn't abandon me and I was waiting for her to come back to me. I'm tired of waiting...

I'm going to try and put myself back together, look for her and pull her back to me. Wherever my Muse went, I'm going to find Her.

Friday, June 8, 2018

I love you:

Currently watching show where this guy keeps saying "I love you".

Those words sound so weird to me. I quite literally can't stand hearing them sometimes because it sounds empty. 

My grandpa never said "I love you" to me not in Chinese, Russian and definitely not in English, but I just knew that he did. I could see it in the way he looked at me. I made a vow to myself long ago that I would spend my life looking for someone who looked at me the way he did... with pure adoration. 

I can call people "love" because I have love for a lot of people. But I just hate saying "I love you". 

When I hear people say it to me, I think to myself, "No you don't because you don't really know me. You know what you've seen, which is probably what I've shown you."

I don't even know how long it's been, but I simply don't feel worthy of people's love. When I'm on cam and a guy starts to spoil me, I have the tendency to ignore them or push them away. 

When there are people around me and they show too much interest I remove myself from the situation. (This is where cigarette breaks comes in handy despite the fact that I can go days, weeks months and I just don't get "cravings"). 

It's even worse when I have feelings for someone because the feeling of being unworthy of love is combined with the fear of abandonment and I just find ways to distance myself. 

Women, I like to distract myself with women when I'm really into a guy. 

If I look back and think about where my insecurities came from, my mom left me with my grandparents in China when I was 2yrs old. Kids would sing this Chinese song, "In this world, mom is best". Whenever I heard it I was so sad because I thought to myself... "I wouldn't know". 

When I was 7yrs old, I went to go live with my mom in Canada. I remember the first time she got mad at my because I made a 1inch cut on our bedsheets because I wanted to test out how sharp the scissors were. I remember her screaming and throwing a stack of bills at me out of anger and probably stress, but looking back, that was so trivial. 

I recently found a dated suicide letter from when I was 11yrs old. I cried when I read it because I talked about how I felt like a burden and how I felt like my mom would be so much happier without me being "in the way". 

In Feb or March I confessed my darkest secret to the person, actually people by association, I wronged the most in my life. The things they said to me, it sounded like the things I tell myself. "You deserve the worst in life and there's a special place in hell for you". I simply don't disagree. and that's why I realized I've been punishing myself emotionally for a decade now. 

Every ounce of "good" I do, has been a feeble effort to redeem my soul. 

I balled like a freaken baby when my friend said to me, "Stop and just let me love you."

My lack of motivation, inspiration, insecurity, fear I think it all stems from being passed around by my family back and forth in terms of custody and the fact that no one wanted to take responsibility of me as a kid. It doesn't usually affect me so much but I have triggers and my family kind of nailed the coffin shut on those. I'm so hurt by them I just want to learn how to live my life without them so that they can't do this to me again. 

Even today, I had this urge to try and make up with my mom but then I realized it would only give her the opportunity to hurt me more in the future. 

I really desperately need to find myself. I need to find my own happiness and self-esteem that isn't based on how much a person or people love me. I hate myself for being such a desperate people pleaser. What have they done for me? 

Despite the separation anxiety I feel about the idea of leaving NYC, I think I really need to go on an RV road trip even if it's for a few months. I think I'm just going to try to start packing? Maybe worse comes to worse, I'll put my stuff in storage.

I think I was hoping that motivation would find me but I am to the point where I think I need to find it before something else does or before I lose all of my will. 

Today was better than yesterday. I vow to make tomorrow better than today.

Contributions to my RV dream is so greatly appreciated Thank you

Thursday, June 7, 2018


3 super ratchet things happened to me last night. The first two, I handled myself not perfectly but I was able to communicate and stand up for myself. The third though... I can't get over how a guy had to "white knight" it and speak up for me.

I hate when I can't speak up right then and there.

Then, after everything is said and done, the moment is gone. I beat myself up so hard over it.

Why do I just smile and pretend like I'm ok?

Why can't I say "no"?

Would I feel like this if it wasn't someone else who stood up for me?

I feel so pathetic for being unable to stand up for myself.

I just need to be held in safe arms.

Friday, June 1, 2018

Crepes of Love:

Had a dream about bringing two eggs to the crepe stand, same stand that later started to sell the liangpi that I also have dreams about. 

To explain, the eggs are used for the crepes. Bringing eggs is a way to lessen the cost of the crepe, and it was the only way my grandma ever let my buy one. 

I always have dreams where I go and get crepes with eggs. 

This crepe stand was originally ran by a guy who was about my grandpa's age, and I remember him and his wife running their two stands as a child. 

As I got older, I left China and upon my return, the crepe man's son ran the stand. 

A few years later the stand was ran by a woman. I later found out this was the crepe man's son's wife. 

From man and wife that were my grandparents age to son and wife. 

Some years later I watched a child pee in the middle of the crepe stand and I kind of lost my appetite for them. 

But till this day, I'll chase down a crepe stand, in search of a memory. 

Each time I try, it feels empty.... like it's missing an ingredient, or two , or five. Sometimes it's so close but just not quite there and I am frustrated to tears. 

I remember the crepe man's wife telling me there was 5 different types of flour in the mixture... 

and that... is Love. 

I don't think I could ever offer them anything to divulge their family recipe, nor would I ever want to but I dream of their crepes.... crepes of love. 

The epitome of a mom and pop shop, passed down to son and wife, pissed in by their grandkids. 

Whenever I go back, I look for their stand, where ever it might be, I am there. 

And when I am there, I am brought back to my childhood. Relishing a moment of wealth because I got permission to bring two eggs and buy a crepe. 

I miss home. I miss the crepes, I miss my godmother who is my moral compass. 

Truthfully, I think I miss the most naive and innocent corner of my soul. That fragment of me that was pure, and I don't mean in a sexual virgin sense, just a light hearted sense. A soul without the weight of the world on it's shoulders. 

I miss being light. 

or lighter... I was never really light. just lighter than I am now. I've got a craving for liangpi and a fear that if I get an RV and leave NYC I won't be able to console myself with food the way I have in the past few years.