Entry 3

My loneliness has driven me to places where a gun to my head could not make me enter. It has eaten away at every ounce of my dignity and self-respect. I throw myself into the arms of anything hungry enough to want me. I have sacrificed my worth countless times to avoid being alone at night, and I have tolerated disrespect enough that it has become my normality. The stench of my desperation follows me like the malbec stain on my favourite linen shirt that I cannot wash out. I am filthy, stained and soiled, my body is a graveyard of lovers who never showed me any love. I can’t ever escape this discomfort I feel within myself. Why can I not be alone?

I cannot stand the men I spend my nights with, perhaps that is what draws me to them. My revulsion towards them overpowers the disgust I feel for myself, and for just a few hours my brain allows me to hate something different. Something that is not me. The way they treat me makes me feel dirty, their hands on my body feel like a punishment. Yet like blood to an open wound, I can’t help but return. Night after night I give and they are overjoyed to take. I cannot go on like this.