I've never understood porn. It's much too difficult for me to be aroused by something I know 20,000 other people have seen. Especially these amateur websites that pop up and lock up my entire computer-- I feel sorry for these girls. I regret ten thousand years of the male superiority complex forcing these girls to fuck for money. When I was a little kid I used to think it made me sound like a man saying things like, "I want to be a pornstar." Looking back, changing my thinking then could've probably saved me a lot of pointless flings with a lot of girls that were probably more sick than I was.

Enabling is a strange disease itself. By watching porn I'm silently yet visibly encouraging this franchise. The girls I used to sleep with never seemed to mind my drinking problems, among countless other problems. Why do girls, especially, love to try and fix people? I remember countless times walking drunk, half blacked out, lining up to take the walk across town to show something pretty, the ugliest part of me. Alone on the turnpike, what a drag, the main stretch that is never lit fully, and always strands a car or so when the clock is lagging somewhere around 3, someone before 4. I would hide in the bushes just to urinate, and was convinced someone was watching me. I never cared, and many times found myself on the highway stumbling until I'd fall asleep or make it home.

So many times I'd wind up on someone's bed with my pants around my ankles wishing I didn't have to search for affection by bringing myself to this low point. This I thought, was a highlight of my youth. Outstretched names and girls and places I'd sell myself for, just to make it through the night. Until drugs and girls were a close first and second. Sometimes, I'd fake an orgasm just to go home--- get loaded and watch porn. Even then, I'd find myself on webcam websites paying 10 dollars a show to take them away from this hell for a minute. I never even asked to see them naked, I just knew they were getting paid, and thought about how lonely I was, and how lonely they must have been too. A lot of these times would make me feel a lot worse, because I thought that was surely where my flings were headed.

Clear headed, I remind myself now that they're not exactly lookers, or sane. But everyone looks for love, whether we find it on a website, on the recieving end or drunk and crying, not wanting this to be their life. Look at your mistakes, and if you choose to keep making them, you're more fucked up than you thought.