I'm sitting on a sandbar in the middle of a river. My throat is hoarse from screaming out to the guy I thought cared about me, begging for help. I'm pretty sure I'm going to die, if I stay out here all night, wet, blind, and very alone.

I've always assumed I would die alone and unhappy. I used to get so angry with people who dismissed my feelings with the painfully-glib "people change". Now, I try to be more understanding. The people who say those things prolly don't have a clue, what my life has been like, especially emtionally/sexually. They judge my hopelessness against the model of their own personal history. They see their own successes and failures, and assume that my life is similar. But it's not. I never dated anyone in high school, or college. I don't have a history full of a mix of good and bad relationships. I'm very good at pushing people away, especially those that I think might be nice to me. Thinking about being my friend? Beware, I'll try to sleep with you, because in my twisted mind, sleeping with me is the most disgusting thing someone can do (associated with me, heh), and if I don't put you off by my akward pawing, I'm sure the sex with be dismal enough to convince you to never talk to me again.