In bed. Happy now. Discovered google merchant tool and think I’ll set that up tomorrow.
The core thing I created, came out of a strange coping mechanism for continuous sexual assault. It represents to me, what saved me in my mind, from all those incestuous and bidding men.
Because whatever I went through, I didn’t have to worry about remembering it in shame. I was rewarded at night, with my own secret to keep instead.
And even when I realized this was not normal, I never admitted my little alien to anyone. Not even Keith. Until the day I told him and announced I was doing it.
In this creation is the solution to my dickophobe, my disgust of men, my saving grace from becoming a total man-hater. And without words, I translated this concept from my dreams, and made it in mit a reality that other women could experience to start their healing. I couldn’t tell anyone, that I had been raped, because they wouldn’t believe me anyway, with my robotic framing of nothing. While they winced or reviled themselves from me in horror.
So how could I even admit to anyone, the reason I stayed alive so easily, and it washed off me like I could just shrug it off. Was because… if ever my mind recalled something terrible and oppressive and genuinely scary… a man burdening himself on me, the monster would be inside waiting to kill him.
And doing in such a way, that the pain I actually felt was overcome as a duty to birth this aliens new life. How the alien came to be inside me, was through the sensation of eroticism and being covered in slime, so that when I actually orgasmed after holding my breath through it the whole time and writhing, the sweat on my body was manefest from this monster, who implanted the alien squid-like baby inside, to steal the next man’s life through his penis.
These ugly men, would crepe and shrivel and scream, as not just their life-force, but they desiccated through the worst pain of their life, unable to pull out of me, because the alien had its painful grip latched on and around his balls and anus, and literally sucked him to a dried salty plum.
Then, the birth would happen, and the thing would shit out of me, like a sac of octopus, sticking to the bedsheets and squirming to get away, splot onto the floor and melt away. And I would wake up momentarily, and know, things might feel, a little better by the time I was supposed to be awake.
But the visceral sensations never left me. They became a programming of my unseen sensations, that my body actually believed, I was doing a good thing, and I would be rewarded and restored. It actually felt that good…
So neither could I admit to the rapes, if in place of their memory, I had a pleasure and warmth of my own. Who was given a role to birth many of these creatures over my lifetime.
Surely, if the power of belief runs that psychologically deep that it kept me in ways of knowing my recovery, that I looked forward to recovering every night thereafter, and probably over many repeats reprogrammed the memory entirely so no such memory was left, except, the clothes… I recognized clothes, not faces. I could not even recognize their faces.
The power of erotiscm enhanced in a creative Childs brain of imagination and curious constant growth, became a source of strength I could surf in times of need. I would masturbate when I was frustrated. I would masterbate if I felt alone. And after - I always had the better energy to get on and finish with new rigor whatever I had started.
But as an adult. My coping mechanisms became fucked. The love and wish and need for imagination to be replaced by reality, fantasized that Christian could take that role, and he would really show me what it was like to feel lust and romance. little did I realize, the tactics he used to wear me down, was really, his strategy from the very beginning.
I was a source of intrigue and puff up power. His fantasy of having a woman represent his company, and everyone look at him for being that Entreprenuer…
Except, people didn’t like me, and that made him look bad. So he eroded me because, now I was just fair game because I was still giving him that power m, that buzz, EVERYTIME he played his reactive abuse on me, infront of everyone.
I have a weirdness about me, I cannot cross roads easily, as my perception of depth is all fucked up with overwhelm and sound and speed. Such that I can’t tell a cars speed coming towards me, because I sensed it from too far away. So I am fearful to cross the road, and always run. These odd things about me were his entertainment.
But for me, the constant abherration of my reality, started to make it REALLY BREAKDOWN. Such that, the boundaries of the other world of fear, started to become alive and poised to take action. In the vignettes of the field around me, I could feel their presence. My processing of the world became weaker, as road signs swam and numbers switched places, and driving became… a challenge. I had an accident.
And I knew, my mind was really unwell. It’s ability to discern its power at night, was changing. The fear started to act during the day, and at night, my emotions came alive and tried to kill me. I would wake up coughing my heart to keep beating, with a stiff jaw and heavy arm.
I would wake up with the series of burns to my hands numbing their sensation until my left hand started to attack me and choke me at night. The dreams I had of danger were no longer protected by monsters as they were now, appearing during the day in the shadows, but at night, the memories of men were no longer being overwritten. And chunks started to comeback. My brain was so anguished and unable to control sleep paralysis, that I enacted the dreams of men choking me, bruising my throat until I awoke, clawing my hand off me and bruising the bones in my hand to do so.
I knew my coping mechanisms were telling me to wake up. And also telling me I needed more sleep. But I was no longer in control of the boundaries between emotion and visualization. My emotions became manefest in the real world as the monsters. Trying to protect me in the shadows but failing. And at night they were gone and no longer able to protect me. The flashbacks came back in fractured mirrors I had to piece together.
And now, I was mute.
