The Chaos Junking
I blacked out and came to in a state of euphoria. With my back against the door jam and my leg up on the counter, my mind gave up and I let my body experience the amazing feel of him inside of me. Just as my legs were about to give in he had me over the kitchen table with my ass up in the air and my nipples pressed against the cold oak. At that moment the only thing I could comprehend was how good it felt to be taken by this man, for that moment I completely seemed to forget that he was a psychopath.
It only seems fitting that the most intense and mind blowing sex that I’ve experienced is with a psychopath. I’ve never done normal very successfully, instead I seem to thrive on the chaos and thrill of the fucked up. It’s not just the excitement of the sex but also the draw to their twisted mental state. I guess my own mental illness is just not enough to satisfy this urge to pursue the crazy. Hence my current love affair with a self affirmed psychopath, with four kids by three different baby mamma’s, a few DUIs, a porn director father and an inability to be faithful or truthful. My vagina, clearly, shares my enthusiasm for the insane and the amazing orgasms that come from sleeping with crazy.
I myself have a pretty mainstream and tame fucked-up-ness. I am just a suicidal depressive, I seem to be slightly incapable of over reacting or really showing any type of extreme emotion. I go through the motions every day, going to work, the gym, a run and that’s that. I don’t flaunt my disease, I don’t use it as a means to make myself more interesting or intriguing. Instead I tend to keep it to myself and if it does come up I brush it off as if spending my days wishing to die is no big deal.
I could utilize my own issues to fulfill my desire for disaster, but instead I seek out others who are undeniably and unapologetically fucked up. This doesn’t just happen with men, even in my friendships I find myself involved with those girls who call the cops on their boyfriends, have multiple pregnancy and STD scares, and are just flat out nuts. And I fucking love it, it’s as if I am a chaos junking.
I have spent so much time “working on myself” and “evolving” that I’ve evolved right out of having any interesting and crazy traits for myself. But I carve it, I feel saddened and empty when life is just fine. I find myself working for insane bosses who ask me to do asinine things, that I always end up doing. I couldn’t even imagine what it would be like to work for someone who is not a criminal of some sort, it seems as much a luxury as a death sentence for me. I wouldn’t last more than a month in a job that did not make me question my moral fiber everyday..
The awful part is that I, not so secretly, love all this shit, cause it gives me a thrill and a story. It evokes an emotion in me that makes me feel alive. I lie to myself all the time and say I want a simple and normal life, but the truth is I just want the tornado to go on around me while I stay safely in the eye the whole time. I want all of the benefits of leading the life of the insane without every really having to get my hands dirty. I am a mental illness voyeur, getting off on watching other people’s lives go up in flames, only offering water when I am fully satisfied.