Chapter 4 learning it the hard way. Before I say anything I want to thank the people who left beautiful comments about chapter 2 and my absence. It meant something to me. If I wasn’t heartbroken I would write you each a deep personal reply. That is all I did for 48 hours straight. I went back to the beginning of my blog and replied to any comment I missed. I did it with sheer passion and devotion. I do want to say fuck the chick who needed to respond with some comment that my blog was really long and some nonsense about being like her friend and having different opinions. Reb I adore you. You couldn’t resist reading chapter 2 or 3 without telling me how long it was. I have learned my motherfucking lesson. I can’t write a damn good blog. It will be too long and people won’t read it. There will always be exceptions. Good men and women will treasure every word. This 48 hours fored me to accept the cold hard truth.Chapter 3 was one of the best things I have ever written. It always will be. I know my writing. I know when I’m mediocre. I know when I’m boring. I know when I’m too negative. I know when I am lost in tangents. I know when I’m so tired my grammar has basic flaws. This is not my first rodeo. I’ve been writing straight stream of consciousness since the age of eight. I have been blogging on a forum before myspace before blog was a word. I have written my life story on facebook with no feedback. I had a wordpress. I had a tumblr. I have tried many forums. Xhamster is just a new location to explore. I found out what works. I found out what fails. I am not changing the way I function in any way. I fucking write. I am just done expecting a reliable audience to ever follow me. This is a solo project. I was reaching out for friendship and support. The responses I got about chapter 3 ended that notion.
You have no idea how hard it was to gamble on a mission to write chapter 3. I was in a state of sheer euphoria because I finally have a stimulant. My mission as a writer is to make a cup of puke into a glass of wine. I will never stop that effort. Before I could be a cam girl I had this idea that it was important to make men and women understand that I have not had it easy. I will always be grateful for the obstacles I have been challenged to overcome. I feel no pity towards myself. I do not even think my life has been anything but a beautiful lesson to learn. I am not negative. I do not write to make a person feel sorry for me. I try my goddamn best to tell a story that somehow makes a person appreciate their own flaws and strengths. It is my hope that a person reads about what a monster my father was and instinctively calls their father to say hello and I love you. If you can share those words with a parent do it. Don’t wait until it’s too late. Don’t ever stop fighting to connect with your f****y. If you have a sibling stop what you are doing and pick up the motherfucking phone and say hello.
I wouldn’t write if I was not actively trying to make people learn or feel pleasure. I just wanted the people who started reading part one to hit chapter 3 and be happy for me. My mission failed. I can’t bitch too much because it has only been available for two days. It was enough time to learn what I needed to know. I am a totally foreign concept. I could never read a blog that intense without slamming a person with praise. I have thanked the people who gave me great feedback. If you read chapter 3 and your response was ‘wow’ ‘thanks for sharing’ ‘welcome back’ ‘I would love to see you in that dress’ or something that didn’t complete a sentence then you don’t need to say anything at all. Those responses radically changed my world view. It can’t be reversed. I just feel like a failure.
Raymond knows how much I have grown to love him. I care about him so much. He has a free pass. He can never fuck up. He is irreplaceable. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I know him well. I am so damn happy he read it and commented that I have no right to be angry. Yet I still am. I was fighting so hard to be something besides a beautiful woman. I know it was not his intention. I saw his comment ‘I would love to see you in that dress’ and I just wanted to cry. I needed something like ‘good job’ way more than a reminder that every man I encounter just wants me to be short, sexy and sweet. That is the irony. I can tell one of my closest friends how strong, damaged, talented, hard-working, loving, mistreated, neglected, artistic, different, confident, brave, wise, intelligent, determined and heart broken I am and get hit with something sexual. I know part of our issue is that we just cammed for the first time and we are both so damn attracted to each other that we can’t help but get sexual. It’s not his fault. We have intense chemistry we both didn’t expect. I just had to face the fact that my body is the focus of most conversations instead of my brain.
If I couldn’t make one of the only people who knows me address trauma over beauty there is no hope other men can. I learned my lesson. Stop wasting time and put back on the damn dress. It was necessary. I am in dire economic distress. I told you I can turn a cup of puke into a glass of wine. Damn straight it hurt for him to remind me I need to promote sex, sell sex, live sex, breath sex, enjoy sex, and become sex incarnate. I have to focus on bank account and not my pride. I have to use this blog and the one I create on chatturbate as a weapon to turn sex into cash. I can not focus on friendship and support. It would be a lovely alternative. This is realty. If I want to make it as a cam girl I have to invite men to enjoy a blog about sex not abuse. You can’t dispute my logic. Words are a weapon. I use them to get what I need. I will use them to build the persona of a super sexy woman who loves giving pleasure.
I know my attempt to get personal was my final act of rebellion against doing something degrading. I wouldn’t change it. I needed to share some side of my life that explains why I rejected sexuality for most of my twenties. I needed men to know that I actually enjoyed ugliness. It was the best time of my life to be covered in ink in funky vintage t-shirts. I was hardcore. I would take a break with boys during a three hour art class. We crammed in my car drove down the road smoking pot with cocaine in it. I was notorious for forgetting to warn people sometimes my pot was enhanced by coke. We drove to a gas station. We each slammed a quart and went back to class. My prince hurt me with the question ‘why did you let yourself go.’ Motherfucking freedom from sex. To be an artist. To revolt against normal behavior. To make men love my art instead of my tits. I did it on purpose. Jumping into total sexuality is not easy for me. This is not my comfort zone. Ink and tangled hair is who I really am. Now I have to leave it behind and focus on what I look like.
I have to loose weight. I have to buy sex toys. I have to start networking. I have to give out free samples. I have to get better with variation. I have to ask for advice. I have to work the image of slutty instead of ladylike. I have to take on cam sex like a small business. I would love to tell you what happened the second time a boy named Tim pushed me to the brink of death. I would love to tell you about how I defied biology in a suicide attempt that turned into attempted murder. I would love to tell you about the years of sheer bliss I had working at a dry cleaners. I would love to tell you about getting half-way through nursing school and getting slammed by two deaths that made me have a mental breakdown. This is a fucking porn site. I can reach five men with an endearing tale of beating the system. I could reach hundreds of men with constant sex stories that keep getting better. Do the math. Time equals money. I don’t have the time to touch five men and earn respect. I have to reach for hundreds of billfolds willing to reward me for a performance that involves tits and pussy.
I am always going to be a sweet small town girl that is naive and generous. I have to exploit my innocence and enhance my sexuality. That is my charm as a cam girl. A man instantly feels comfortable around me because I put people at ease. I am honest. I’m not trashy. I’m a cam girl who will listen to problems and produce an orgasm. I let men bond with me. I do not make them feel pressure from a time-limit. I engage them in debates about women and trends in sexuality. I am totally cool with all fetishes that don’t involve beastiality, incest, child molesation, or shit. Men who love to play with their assholes are encouraged. Men who need to be dominated are controlled. Men who need to call me a fat, stupid slut get to do it. Men who need to fantasize about torture and rape can go there and not phase me. Chapter 3 was the only glimpse a man will ever have that informs them I’m intelligent. Men prefer a chick who is not intimidating due to her intellect. They want easy, adaptable, controllable and deviant.
When I feel like writing glimpses of my real life will always pop out. I won’t stop keeping a blog on a near daily basis. It’s just tainted with this enhanced notion that I have an insatiable sexual need. I will rewrite my profile. It will shift away from my need for a man to be intelligent. It will be short and devoted to sex. I will describe my body and not my mind. It will be a role reversal. I will start answering all those pm’s. Getting me one on one for cam will rarely be an option. You don’t give away your milk for free. You tease and lure a man to purchase the damn cow. I completed my mission to reply to each blog comment. Tomorrow my status changes to BACK TO SEX. I tried to earn respect for being a good woman. Men want a bad little girl. I will build up a campaign of men excited to see me go live. I do it with a sense of curiosity.
Men looking for a cam sex experience with a nice girl who rarely mentions money will be thrilled. Men looking for a kinky girl that isn’t a fucking piece of trash they want to abuse will find me. Men who who want a pretty face and huge tits will be thrilled. Men who like a petite chubby chick with a sense of humor will be ecstatic. Men who want a cam show when at no point does a check ask for tokens will adore me. Men who love a real orgasm will find me intoxicating. I provide innocence by being myself. Men sick of watching a chick plastered in make-up will flock to me. It’s no joke that I have a blast doing live shows for several men I can’t see. Men looking for a woman with the maturity of thirty and the appearance of early twenties will respect me. Most of all men looking for a sexy voice saying what they dream of hearing a woman say will fight for me. My voice is my greatest feature. My ability to judge a man’s need for me to be a slut or a sweetheart is damn good. It was a beautiful notion that my life story would build up a support system. It was a pipe dream. I was being naive.
If blog 3 was read and praised then I would be dedicated to shocking men with what I’m capable of. It would’ve fucked me up. I would have fixated on men who I would not allow to pay me and perform as a reward for simply reading and writing. My mission needed to fail. I needed a wake-up call. God guides me. In my writing I discuss the fact he fucks with me some times. I am his child to teach. Letting me quickly focus on economics was needed. I’m not a christian. I have no notion that sexuality is a sin. It is a gift. Pleasing men is an art form. Everything about me is an art. Making money is essential for me to become an artist. Getting work printed and shipped worldwide depends on my ability to sell my sexuality in a precise way that is not easily replicated. Men who watched me perform free of charged begged for me to accept money as gratitude for being an amazing alternative to a normal cam girl. I had no means of accepting their money. I’m truly a real chick that is just really sexy and loves pleasing men. That is worth paying for to have over and over in a private session.
I can transform quickly. It’s a gift to have many dimensions to your personality. I’m an actress eager to take on this role and perfect it. When I wake-up I will have a totally new perspective on what is important. It was a cup of puke not getting respect for my achievements. It is a wine glass to face the future as an eager force to be reckoned with. It was a damn fine 48 hours. I met a man who could match me in writing. He is all the support I need. It only takes one man to make me happy. If he hauls ass I will replace him. if you failed to read chapter 3 you lost my attention. Thank you. It would’ve been a distraction I can’t afford. Raymond and the man who writes like me are my only concern that involves rewarding friendship and devotion with time and sexual intimacy.
Raymond had to hurt me to fix me. Sometimes you have to break a bone to reset it properly. I needed his comment more than anything. It was a nightmare and a blessing. I may be less available because I am working on refocusing this page to sex. Sex sells. A damn good story that defines me is an honor to read. It won’t get my art printed. It won’t pay for medicine. A total shift in my attitudes about sex for money had to happen. I needed it immediately. My naive ambition to earn respect on a porn site had to come to a screeching halt. A few good men will miss me working at a superior pace to tell a good story. Hundreds of men will be thrilled to stumble upon my new identity as a small town girl with a high sex drive that is eager to please them sexually.
I will never write a post that doesn’t end with enthusiasm to achieve my goal and become an artist worthy of a wall and then a gallery and possibly a museum. All I can do is thank the people who hurt me with a lack of effort to support me. Important lessons hurt. I needed this one. I was on the path to chugging puke from a coffee mug. I am now excited about sipping wine from crystal. I promise there will always be a happy ending. It took me a lifetime of writing to pull off making a nightmare into a fairytale. Watch me transition. Watch me nail sex stories on a nightly basis. Watch me pull this off. Watch me launch a website selling art worldwide. I am back on track. I will keep getting better with each post. I will keep accepting change and enjoy the thrill of starting over. Thank you for fixing my busted pipe dream. This is a porn site. I’m an amateur porn star. I’m doing it to sell art. This is BACK TO SEX. Ir had to happen. I needed it now. Two weeks from now I would have caused irreversible damage.