I’ve been terrible 

I got my tonsils out and I’ve been in bed basically dieing but I’ll be back on soon 


the pain 

I hide it well but it’s ever present 

they hurt me so much 

they don’t represent it 

it’s hard to bear when they all look at me

my name is there’s 

my face is there’s 

my blood is there’s 

but I’m not there’s 

I’m not welcome because of who i am

even though I’m them 

more them than they even are 

my last name represents them but I’m not a part 

I’m a lost piece of the puzzle

I’m misrepresented but my representation is who I am

the ones before me were roll models 

but all they see is a bitch on full throttle 

I’m misrepresented in every way 

never welcome even they say 

no one cares to see who I am 

on the inside 

not what I’m presenting 

lets talk about sex pt 3

I go on tinder a lot. I have met up with quite a few guys from tinder and I have hooked up with most of them. I like tinder because I am about to graduate from an all girls school and I don’t know many guys. I know being on tinder is somewhat groundupon. I was on tinder when I was 15 I lied about my age and hooked up with a lot of guys. i had sex w a 19 year old when i was 16 and blew a 21 year old when I was 16. I always wanted attention from guys and I didn’t care how I got it. I never felt like I was enough so i always figured the only attention I was going to et was the negative kind from guys that i actually didn’t care too much about. I now recently started talking to  a guy who has never kissed a girl. I really like him but i wonder how can he like me if I am so much more experienced than him. He too is 18 and come from a strict hindu family. He doesn’t want to kiss a girl until he is in love. I have already have a had sex but I really like him but I can’t have a relationship with no kissing. So i flirt but nothing happens. I wish I never had sex so I could feel less awkward about having so much experience.




I feel that a woman has the right to choose. A woman should be given the opportunity to decide her own fate. But I also think that abortion should be used a a last resort and never a way of birth control. Being 18 I realize how me being pregnant now would affect my life, my mom’s life, my friends live, and everyone else around me. I dont know if i personally would like to get an abortion if I were to get pregnant now but I do know that i would like the choice. I know this is a controversial topic however I would like to hear your opinions.



ode to dad 

my daddy and I

my daddy and I

I wish there was a way to bring him back. The sound I hear of someone steping on the front step right before the door opens reminds me of when he used to come home. The way th garage door opens reminds me of when I was little and he would be gone for weeks at a time in Asia or Europe or Africa and I would sit in the garage for hours playing games until the door opened and he parked his car got out and crouched to the ground and I would run up and take him in a hug and scream ” Daddies Home”. The way that pen ink smells before it drys reminds me of him , when I would hug him my face would go right to the pocket of his dress shirt where he kept his pens and he always forgot to put the caps on creatin little ink stains that smelt deliciously safe to me. When he would get off a plane and I would run to the bottom of the escalator and hug him and say ” I love the way you smell like plane because it means you’re really home”. I miss him every moment of every day. They way his body would be warm and his ears would be so cold. The freckles he had on his hands. The way he would lay on the couch taking it up until I would sit on his legs and then he would pin me down with them and tickle me until I cried from laughing. The way that I used to lay on his stomach and hear his belly gurgle because of his celiacs. The way that he would get so frustrated when I was 7 and could kill him at soccer. The way that he would yell YAHTZEE every Friday night. The way that he would sing Johnny cash songs and rub my back until I fell asleep. The way he would dance to bob Marley in the car and sing in his Jamaican voice. The way he would say things in different accents to make me laugh. His dumb jokes and hilarious belly laugh. The way he used to pick me up and put me in a potato sack. The way he would effortlessly say yes to any adventure I suggested. Every Saturday morning riding bikes down the river path and skipping rocks until we driped in sweat and then coming home and jumping in the pool. The way he looked at me and smiled. The way his soft hair felt in my hands. The way his wedding ring shined I his finger. The way his hands were so strong. The way his biceps bulged under his polo. The way he smelt sweaty and mixed with axe after going to the gym. The way he would talk to me when he was happy. The way he would rub his stubble on my cheek to annoy me. The way he would playfully say do you want a slaping or a whoopin and if I said slaping he would rub his hand on my face and kiss my forehead and if I said whoopin he would yell whoopin and hug me, even when I was in trouble but he didn’t punish me. The way he would put me in timeout and sit next me until it was over because he didn’t want me to be mad at him. The way he would hug me and tease me. I miss him so much it takes every part of me not to break down in grief. I love him so much and all I want is my daddy back, cause it isn’t fair that it was him. 

lets talk about sex pt.2

My piece entitled “lets talk about sex” got a lot of attention so I have decided to make this a series. People responded to my first post in various ways and I love hearing your in put, however I do ask that if you want to write a comment please do not give me a lecture on being safe or chaste because I have heard it all too much and I know all the risks. I am an 18 yr old female, and the product of years of catholic all girls school education, Ive heard it all.

Lets talk about sex will be series of journals, thoughts, stories, etc all centering around sex.

Now getting to the good stuff…..

This is one of my funnier stories about hooking up with a guy.

I was talking to this guy his name was Chris. He took me out to coffee one day and we talked about our lives and chatted about our common interests, like a normal date. I invited him to my house because my mom was gone for the weekend. We sat on the couch and began watching the walking dead. We got closer and closer and eventually we ended up making out with me on top. We started to pull our clothes off and he began to finger me and play with my boobs. I put my hands over his pants, and he was rock hard. I undid his jeans and pulled his D out. I began to give him a hand job while he fingered me and we made out. The making out was so good and I was really into him. After a while of making out he kissed my neck (later I realized he gave me a hicky). I was slowly giving him a hand job and I could feel him getting harder and harder, he started to throb and he began to come. My hand was filled with white sticky goo and I didn’t know where to put my had now that he came because he kept making out with me and fingering me. I began to have an orgasm and slowly I was starting to pull my hand up without relizing that his come was everywhere on it. I came to my climax point and while we were making out I got so into the point I ran my hand through his hair. His hair was now filled with his own come and it was sticky and white and gross I didn’t know what to do once I had done it. He began to freak out and he ran to the bathroom, He came out and his hair was soping wet, because he stuck his head under the sink. He was so annoyed and disgusted he ran out of my hour and slowly stopped talking to me. oops  I guess it wasn’t meant to be.