![]() ![]() Strangely, I was always able to get money. A contradiction in terms if ever there was one. I was working freelance in advertising all through this period in London. The deeper in they were, the more beautiful they looked when the moment came.Īnd I lived for the moment. All those intimate moments, every little sigh, those gentle touches, the lovemaking, the confidences, the orgasms, the attempted orgasms-all mere fuel. There was just the two of us and the pain. ![]() They'd just stare at me in disbelief and shock.Īll the pretense and rules dissolved away. He'd done it, though, because I'd been taking the pith out of hiths listhp. I was lucky to get out of that house alive. One of my "victims" stuck my head on an electric cooker ring. And then when he'd head-butt me, I'd say, "Call that a headbutt?" So the guy would do it again harder. I'd go up to the biggest guy in the place and look up his nostrils and call him a faggot. My mouth always got me into trouble, of course. But then, as far as I was concerned, wasn't everyone doing the same thing? I started to realize something was wrong when I began to get beaten up. I think I always knew deep down I had a drinking problem. Either way, after getting into Alcoholics Anonymous, I didn't even kiss a girl for five years. Or maybe I was just afraid that they'd see through me. I couldn't even look at a girl, much less believe I deserved to converse with one. I carried the guilt of my crimes around with me for years after I stopped drinking. I've been punished, so it's okay to talk about it all. The same thing happened to me, only worse. Then the glaze as they tried to hide how much I was hurting them. Till the big saucer eyes were looking at me. I'd wait until they were totally in love with me. I didn't care how long it took either, because I was in no hurry. It's like when you hear serial killers say they feel no regret, no remorse for all the people they killed. If you can encourage the man to be himself, to give you his character, his ways, then you know how to navigate him, and therefore, he will never be able to hide from youMentally, not physically, I never hit a girl in my life. This, it seems to me, is the most devastating weapon of all in a woman's arsenal. She made you feel like it was okay to be a guy. The patient wants her to feel the pain, too The nurse wants to prevent him from this pain. But the patient isn’t suffering from an external illness, he’s suffering from self-inflicted wounds. The nurse becomes willing to sacrifice herself in the patient. The very fact that they were naturally caring and loving would be the milestone that weighed them down.And who knows, maybe someone will benefit. I heard someone say somewhere that it's possible to write the sickness out of yourself.If you can encourage the man to be himself, to give you his character, his ways, then you know how to navigate him, and therefore, he will never be able to hide from you. You can’t hurt a man with a pinprick when he’s already got a spear in his chest.She was very attentive.They say you’re not punished for your sins, you’re punished by them.Therefore, I wouldn’t have to worry about never seeing her again. I thought, if I hurt her enough she would want revenge. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, you want revenge. My logic went as follows: If someone hurts you then you automatically want revenge.I'd ask them out and pretend I hardly ever did "this kind of thing', I hadn't been out a lot in London because I didn't really know the scene. I'd meet the women the first night and get the obligatory phone number and then after another couple of days, making them sweat a little, I'd call and be all nervous.In New York, everyone just looks hurt.We are not punished for our sins we are punished by them. What you do comes back to you with twice the force, fuck it, three times the force. An unwritten axiom that governs our emotional dealings. The blade slips in barely noticed, the pain and the apology delivered at the same time. An expert heartbreaker knows the effect of each incision. Hurt people hurt people more skillfully.Removed more hope, sold more medication, caused more tears Ok…maybe not killed but dulled more lives. Romance has killed more people than Cancer.I allowed you to admire yourself in my eyes. They say the sea is actually black and that it merely reflects the blue sky above.The unnamed writer claims that the novel written is autobiographical. Diary of an Oxygen Thief is a 2006 Dutch novel, written anonymously and published in Amsterdam by NLVI.
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