January 25,2022

I’ve had a horrible day o.

A terrible one.

I’m telling you because I don’t know if you’ll ever see this.

I don’t have the courage to tell anybody. Or who to tell that would bring quick solutions.

I’m hiding. Is it shame or the devil? Both?

Today I relapsed badly into a bad habit. Watching porn.

Phew. There, I finally said it.

Do I call myself a porn addict aspiring to recovery? I don’t know.

Anyways, now I feel like telling this story from the beginning?

It all started with Binu.

I don’t know how many people know the platform but back then in 2014- when I had gotten my brother’s Nokia C2 as a hand-me-down-it was the IT place for novels.

Everything was there. It was one of the apps that fostered my love for reading really.

So back to the story. I read alot of books on there.

Her Vampire Husband by Michelle Reid was one. I loved the story. The fantasy. The romance. It was wonderful.

But I think my brain loved the sex scenes more. Because I read and imagined. And whatever I couldn’t imagine, I made sure to remember. So that I could look it up someday.

I didn’t know then that I should skip those parts in books. They gave me this wonderful feeling in the lower part of my belly so I really didn’t want to skip them.

The only time I got a replica of this feeling was when I started liking a boy.

“Ah.” I’d thought. “I’ve felt this before”

So from then on, if I read books with scenes in them, I’d read and enjoy whatever fireworks happened in my belly. Was it my lack of understanding I wonder, because it never got beyond that… Until the period of my life where I saw the phrase “fifty shades of Grey”.

People on goodreads were talking about it. It was a good book,it was a bad book,all I saw was that it was a book. Funny how I first thought it was a self help book, lol.

So I looked it up and imagine my joy when I found out it was a novel. Now I wanted to know why it was so bad.

And then I knew. And I enjoyed it. I love the story. The mystery. The everything. The erotic side too. I still remember so many things from that book clearly.

How did I get the book? I read it online.

The first time I had something akin to an euphoric orgasm was in the floor of our sitting room, just beside the television. I think my sister was sitting right in front of me.

After my adventures with Christian Grey and Anna, I wanted to see more erotic stories. I went online, discovered a couple of sites and discovered this site for just my taste.

I remember that hot afternoon, I was pressing the button of my phone so fast so that I could get to the next line, rubbing my thighs together because it seemed to shot a hot bowl of goodness into my belly.

And then it came. I remember it so clearly. It was sweet and savory-that feeling you get when you eat food or ice-cream that you haven’t had for a while. That same feeling rushed through my head down to my stomach to the tips of my toes. If my eyes could have rolled backwards, they probably would have.

Everything went downhill from there. For days, I’d wake up just to read these stories, masturbate(I don’t really touch myself in any way except those thighs rubbing so I don’t know if it counts) and go back to sleep. For days on end. I was just thirteen.

At a particular point I stopped, I can’t remember why. All I know is that when I remember I’d stopped, I started again.

It’s been an arduous journey from then really. So many times I felt like I’ve had a changing encounter but here we are again.

So why I’m writing all this you ask?

Because today, I’ll tell my sister. My mother always says God gave me one for a reason. I plan to cash in on this.

Hopefully, hopefully there’ll be progress.

I know most people may not see this as a big deal, after all most people do it.

It is a big deal. You’re messing with your brain in so many ways that you’re only going to discover about when the damage is done.

And if you happen to see this and you know me, this is not a sign to approach. Posting this is already a big deal. I don’t want to know that you know. Just help me in your own little way with prayers or ignorance.

Thank you!

• 

This is Tanaka

He’s a character from the anime Haikyuu. (You should give it a watch)

Tanaka is one of those anime characters. The loud ones. The brash ones. The ones that are not too strict. The ones that are unexpectedly nice. The ones who crush on the team manager.

Tanaka is also the one who is not so special.

Sure, he’s on the main cast. Sure he plays in all the games but it’s not like the cameras are on him. He knows he’s important but he knows that he doesn’t shine as much as the main characters.

• 

In this game,Tanaka kept being targeted. Why? Because the opposite team knew all his moves. Literally. And the worst part? He only had one.

So over and over again, they’d score off him.

Blockers would rush to block him because his spike was “nothing special”.

The painful part? Tanaka knew.

He knew and for the better part of the game, he couldn’t do anything.

That’s sometimes the most discouraging part right?

You know how bad you are doing, you keep trying to predict what the next move might be just so you can counter it.

But it remains the same. The result doesn’t change.

…

“But you, who is average, do you really have time to complain?”

I’m heavily paraphrasing because I can’t remember exactly what Tanaka said. But I think I got the message through.

If you’re not good enough, you can be.

So why have I made this slightly longer piece than usual that took over three months to complete?

There are things that you can’t help and things like you can.

If you spend the time complaining of the former, you’ll never get to do the latter.

And that would be a great waste of time, wouldn’t it?

Hello 2022. Salem here.

Panic Attack?

I don’t exactly know what it feels like or what it’s supposed to feel like.

Deep breaths. Cold chest. Cold extremities. And yet, I still plan on finishing this plate of rice in front of me.

Even though I’m breathing through my mouth.

I can’t take myself seriously.

I’ve breached the edge of tears twice now. Maybe a third time truly is the charm

My chest feels very open and cold. I’m shivering a bit.

The feeling of dread from six days ago is back, only this time with a punch.

And as usual, I have no idea what I’m scared of.

Before writing this, I’d been sitting outside, contemplating if I wanted to pen it down or not.

Now after making up my mind to, these words are hesitant to show up, as usual. Anyway.

Have you ever felt like wailing out loud and wanting to burrow into a thick blanket at the same time? With something like a large cold block of dread pressing on your chest?

I’ve always hated goodbyes. Endings in general.

Good books, good movies, a good day out.

Holidays, a school year, a birthday.

It must be why deep down I don’t look forward to landmark events; graduation, weddings, the end of the year, burials.

There’s always this fear. This dread, that everyone seems to dismiss. This dread that always takes my breath away. That makes me want to weep.

This is it. What I feel every year’s ending. I dislike it desperately. It takes my breath away, tightens my chest and looms like a dark tunnel.

I’m barely dyspneic really.

It’s funny how I never see it coming. How it manages to creep up on me every single time.

What’s funnier is how it feels familiar when it comes. Like an old comfort dress that wraps you in a hug. I don’t shake it off, I wear it, albeit with a large helping of sadness.

I’m theorizing. That I must be mourning something I’m not aware of.

Because my yearly companion feels similar to a deep loss as well.

It sounds trivial. My writing never does these emotions justice.