I keep thinking that maybe I should put my poems here, that I should put up some of my stories, or my rants... but I have a page for that. I keep meaning to write something deep and philosophical, something so meaningful that anyone who reads it will be awestruck, stunned by the beauty and wonder of it... but y'know, I couldn't write like that to save my life. I keep meaning to be open and honest, and then I look back and realize how much I left out...

Kitten wrote me a letter yesterday, begging to come home, to come down here. He needs to finish high school, or he won't have nearly as good a life as he might otherwise. I want him here, gods know I want him in my life... I hate this distance, never knowing what's going on or when I will next talk to him. But I would hate myself if I took away something that he needed, if I destroyed a chance for him to be happy. So I get to be all moral and self-sacrificing and feel good about myself for what? Telling an 18-year-old boy that he can't abandon his family and friends, move to another country, live from paycheck to paycheck and be in a relationship with someone who is already in love with at least one other boy? Like he needs that anyway.

Thing is, he DOES need that. I do love him. I care for him. Caleb... caleb's never gonna go away, what he and I have is amazing. If kitten asked me to give up Caleb, I'd slap him senseless and tell him NO. If Caleb asked me to give up kitten... I'd actually have to think for a minute or two before telling him NO. But that aside, kitten has a place in my life, he has family here that treats him a hell of a lot better than his birth family. He has more than just one or two people here who worry about him, who want to help him. His parents are in the process of kicking him out... and at the same time, they are trying to convince the parents of all his friends NOT to take him in, it's like they WANT him to be homeless and desperate. Some days, I really hate them.

Work. Gods, where do I start? I've missed so many days... each week is hellish, I want a different job or even the same job on a reasonable schedule. This one... it's killing me, the commute and the hours. It's driving me up a wall. I promised myself I would stick it out for six months... if I keep being sick I might not make that promise. Tech support is very hard to do when you have no voice and can't hear a damn thing because of an ear infection from the cold that took your voice and left your throat raw and sore.

Cold medication. Wow. NyQuill, DayQuill, sudafed, TheraFlu cold and cough, halls, Robitussin, Robitussin HoneyCough, Dimetapp Get Better Bears, cough drops, throat drops, Sucrets, even Chloraseptic Spray... I have every medication in the world and all it does is fix the symptoms... that and get me high as a kite. And really, they don't even fix ALL the symptoms... I'm still hacking up a lung here.

Bitch, bitch, bitch. Hey, it feels GOOD to complain.

Anyway, honesty. I was going off on honesty, right? Ok. I think that I am not being honest enough with myself... however, I'm not real sure how to start being more honest. Sex. That might be a place to start.

Hi, my name is Jax, and I'm a sexaholic... actually, I am. Fuck, screw, yiff... pick a term. I like it rough, I like it often, and I like it enough that it's gotten me in quite a bit of trouble. I have an adopted daughter... as in she was my daughter, someone else adopted her. I've had more abortions than fingers on one hand. I've broken promises for the sake of sex, I've done things I regret because of sex, I have lost friends over it, and am I satisfied? Nope, still horny. That's me, desperate and fuckable.

The key to my addiction is a couple things. First, I've got a massive problem with my appearance... although I know I CAN be attractive, I have a damn hard time believing it's real, and certainly I know I'm not beautiful. I am fat, I've got pimples and hairs in odd places, and my teeth are not clean. My hair gets greasy if I don't wash it every other day, my eyes have this tendancy to get all puffy... but the long and the short of it is that if I just had a bath, if I'm dressed in something reasonably cool, and IF I'VE JUST FUCKED... I feel attractive. I know that someone wants me. Sad, isn't it?

The other half of this is the D/s - that's Dominance/submission, for those of you not up on pop terms. I get off on the violence, whether I'm the one in charge or the one being used. I get off on the powertrip, whether I'm the one in control, or the one controlled. That give and take, the constant, obvious exchange... I love that. I crave it. I'm addicted to it.

So there you have it. Sex addict. It kinda bites, sometimes... when I wish my mind would think of other things, when I'm tired of being turned on so easily, when I feel like a slut and don't want to... everybody says 'just say no'. I'm here to tell you that sometimes, you don't realize you wanted to say 'no' until afterward... and then it's too late.

*reads back over this* Gah. I'm gonna take a break... maybe I'll write more later. Maybe not.