I Am Not My Keeper


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    Autobiography: the biography of a person narrated by himself or herself.


    I wouldn't necessarily say this is an autobiography. Maybe it'll turn into one, but currently it's just a recollection of my thoughts and feelings. Sort of a like a diary. Maybe it'll get you, my readers, to start thinking about your own lives and thoughts and feelings.

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11:18 pm, November 9, 2017.

    It's depressing. Really, it is. We live in a world where it is the social norm to hate ourselves and make self-deprecating jokes.

    What it really is, is toxic.

    I can't go a day without seeing other choir members and hearing someone make a self-deprecating joke, and jokingly I agree with them because I hate myself, too.

    Why are we like this? Why must we hate ourselves?

    Coming into the choir and being here for three years, three years​, all I've ever felt is love, and the need to love everyone else, but this year has become something entirely different. The love is still there, it always is, but there's the underlying toxicity of self-deprecation that we can't get rid of. It's like a radiation that doesn't always show visible signs that it's there, but we know it is.


    Depression and Anxiety.

    These are two things I think about all the fucking time, and most likely it's because I'm always dealing with both, but there are others who I see suffering with these as well.

    My roommate suffers with these. We've talked about it before, and we realize we're almost the same person, except she's an extrovert and I am very much an introvert. The both of us go through our own phases and purely self-hatred and wishing we could better ourselves because we know how, but just not having the strength or energy at the time to do anything about it.

    Personally for me, I would and probably could easily fix things in my life, but I've found that having a roommate increases my anxiety levels tenfold whenever I do anything because my roommate looks at me practically any time I move. I hate it. Currently my side of the room is a disaster; it looks like a tornado has plowed through it, but I haven't done a fucking thing to fix it because my anxiety tells me not to unless I'm in the room by myself. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.

    On the other hand, I realize that if I were to not have a roommate, it would give my depression the room it wants to grow. I know this. Why do I know this? Well, the spring semester of my freshman year of college I acquired a new roommate and she was absolutely ​never​ in the room (or at least not when I was there) because she was always with her boyfriend who didn't have a roommate.

    That was the semester I really​ sank into my depression.

    I fell in ​love​ with my depression.

    And I don't think I ever really fell out of love with my depression.

    Already I have a roommate picked out for next school year, and I know that she's never going to be in the dorm except for the occasional nap because she stays with her parents 20 minutes away from campus.

    Now why does she have a room on campus, but stay with her parents? Well our college currently requires everyone to live on campus unless there are very specific reasons (such as being married and/or having children), but my roommate would rather stay with her parents.

    I already know that next year she's going to be staying with her parents as always, which leaves me alone with my depression and anxiety in our dorm room. It's going to be a bad year. I can already tell.

    I'm not ready for this. But it's going to happen.


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5:04 pm, November 11, 2017.

    Why am I like this?

    Why am I doing this to myself?


    On OkCupid I started an account purely for an experiment, showing only my overweight body in bras and panties or the one corset I own, and it's gotten to the point where I'm constantly sending nude pics to guys on Kik I have no intention of meeting. And for the most part I hate it.

    On one hand, I get praise from most of the guys I talk to about my body and they tell me how sexy I am and how much they'd like to fuck me, but on the other hand, that's all they want. They just want my body for a night to get themselves off and it feels so degrading. Not to mention I can't take any photos unless I'm in the bathroom in my college suite, or if my roommate isn't in the room.

    Why do I do this?

    I grew up in a Christian household, not to mention I'm overweight and very insecure about my body, and so going and randomly hooking up with a guy is not my cup of tea. At all.

    There was once my freshman year of college when I came close, though. At this point I'm starting to realize it may have mentally fucked me up a little bit. I was talking with a guy on Tinder and agreed to meet up with him at Starbucks and we wound up going to his place for "Netflix and chill". He turned the lights off at one point and we were lounging there on the couch in his apartment watching Arrested Development on his TV and after each episode we would make out with each other. He was my first kiss, too, and I feel like I absolutely wasted it on someone I was not interested in, which is basically what happened.

    At one point as we were making out, he went to lift up my shirt and I told him that I didn't want to go that far. He said okay and we watched another episode. I'm not sure how many episodes we watched, but after one of them as we were making out again, he did wind up taking my shirt off. What I hadn't realized was that he had undone the hook on my bra, and so when my shirt came off, my bra fell off as well. I was kind of horrified because I had told him I didn't want to go that far, but somehow we did without my knowledge. He assured me that he found me beautiful, but I was extremely uncomfortable.

    Somehow we wound up on his bed, neither of us wearing shirts. He had sucked on my breasts and fondled them, but I couldn't feel anything. I was slowly but surely going numb from the fear of what would happen if he tried to get into my pants. Eventually I told him I had to go because I was just too tired to do anything at that point, which was true. He offered to let me stay there, but I was too terrified of everything and politely refused.

    It was a twenty minute drive back to my dorm. As soon as I got away, I was immediately awake the whole drive. I knew my roommate wouldn't be there, which is what I expected. When I got to my dorm room I was wide awake and not able to calm myself down enough to sleep for a couple of hours. I was too worked up to do much of anything.

    After everything had happened, I regretted it all. I regretted agreeing to meet him, even though it was pretty clear that all he wanted was sex, especially after we went to his apartment. Occasionally I'll think about this night and wonder why I did what I did, and why I let things happen, but I know that I can't go back and change it.

    I sincerely wish I could, but I know there's no possible way that I could do that.

    There have been so many conversations with guys that I've had where I've lied to them about finding them attractive and wanting to have sex with them, and I've shared pictures and videos of my body with them, and I just wind up feeling so disgusted with myself afterwards, but I also crave the attention of people finding my body beautiful and wanting to fuck me silly.

    I'm just a mess.

    I want to be the good and innocent Christian girl who would never share herself with anyone except for the man that she's so irrevocably in love with, but I also want to be the slut that has had thousands of men for her own pleasure. I'm a fucking virgin. I'm much closer to being the Christian girl, but lately I've been acting like a slut.

    There seems to be so much wrong with me lately and I'm just not sure what to do. I think I just need help.

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10:48 am, November 15, 2017.

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12:17 am, November 20, 2017.

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11:10 am, November 20, 2017.

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11:51 pm, November 21, 2017.

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11:15 am, November 27, 2017.

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2:14 pm, November 29, 2017.

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11:22 am, December 4, 2017.

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12:09 am, December 17, 2017

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