I'm a teen and I have an Anxiety and Depression disorder, I'm not positive but I may also have mild OCD. I'm really new too this website and forums so sorry if I do this wrong . I have so much running through my mind right now that it's really hard to decide what to say, so sorry again if what I say doesn't make sense. My parents have always been the over-protective type, both of their childhoods sucked and apparently they were both bullied tons. Unlike them, I was never bullied at school or anything like that I quite liked it, but I hate it at home. My parents like to start a fight over basically everything, either if it's with me or with each other, but either way, it always ends up my fault. I have a younger sister too, she's currently the age of 10 and I'm pretty sure she stopped aging at 6. I mean she's always had it easy, and her attitude towards me has never changed. I was never allowed to watch TV other then Family channel or Disney until late Grade 6, but she started as soon as I did... Meaning she was only in grade 2. Meaning, my mum thinks that everything I can do or/have she can do or/have. Moving on, my mom always treats me like I am her when she was my age. She decided I was a Tom-boy, that I don't like "girly things" like clothes, make-up, dating, going to the mall, going to the spa or looking good. And she really had be convinced that I was that person for a while, but once I was a little older (around 10, but not the dating part tbh none of my friends have even dated before.) I noticed that all my friends liked those things now too. I was getting older, and I wanted to act more like my gender. That's normal isn't it? Well, after all my friends changed more "girly" then they were before, I thought I should too and not just because they were but because I felt like I wasn't being who I really was. But to be completely honest, I was scared to change. Strangers looked at me and saw the fun-crazy-weird kid, the one that didn't want to grow up. And apparently my parents thought that too, so when I did start looking at different clothing at the stores when me and my mom went shopping she would say things like; "Oh no, that's nothing like you." or "Don't you think thats a bit too fancy?". When really all I would be showing was casual clothes, clothes that my close friends wore. My anxiety would kick in and I would just shut-up, agreeing to whatever she bought me. What really confuses me about this is that she always complains about the terrible clothing her mom bought her when she was a kid/teenager, and I thought that would make her want to treat me better? But I'm a teen now and guess what, you will still only find pairs of jeans and leggings in my closet with basic tees and you will only find a pair of runners and a pair of gumboots on the shoe rack that belong too me. It's not fair that I'm not allowed to grow up, I'm not allowed to be a girl, that I have been stuck in the same hole for my whole life and it's only getting bigger. All my friends wear mascara, a bit of eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, and all that crap, but I can only wear concealer and a bit of foundation (whatever the difference is) to hide my acne. Note: My friends are good friends, my parents have no problems with them and I have known them my whole life. Even though I'm currently only talking about 2 of them, because technically the rest left me for some unknown reason. But I do have other friends, although they are all online . Onto another subject now, remember it may not seem like much so far but thats because it's all the little things that build up inside of me. My parents like to fight with me or each other ALL THE TIME, it's really bad. When its just the two of them fighting, and it's...

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the root of all evil is not money. it is not greed, or any other “sin”. it is the perversion of perception. it is to separate “good” and “evil” to begin with. “light” and “dark”; “creation” and “destruction”; “feminine” and “masculine”: those who have been taught there is a line between the two, cannot understand either. it is a product of the imagination even to say that “1″ is separate from “zero”. physicists have done well to prove this, as they have followed their numbers into realms where all of their equations fall apart. into delusion, where they ought be sent. man cannot gain understanding by dividing his reality into smaller and smaller pieces. exactly the opposite, his field of view has been reduced. this story is told by the history of language itself. where once he had many symbols for the infinite and the large, he now has many symbols for the small and the finite. the zoroastrians, for example, had 101 names for “god”, all bearing a different meaning. the earliest symbols appealed to the holistic nature of man’s mind, which saw the giants of the cosmos. today’s symbols appeal to the fragmented nature of man’s mind, which is drawn to think of the “atoms” and “molecules” and the even smaller things. the children of today are made anxious just to think of the vastness of the void, because they can no longer fathom it.

----Every new day can change one's life; Every new experience can deepen the realm within ones world. These notions run parallel, to the story of Johnny and The Cupcake Girl----

(Character Background. If looking for eroticism, skip to next chapters.)

Prelude: Aromatic Cupcakes

The sun was beaming through the cracks of the curtains - Johnny woke up, always curious as to what the day would entail. Getting ready for work at the store was a very systematic process for him. Every slight movement, down to the way he dried off his vascular body after a steaming shower, was replicated with exact precision.

Coffee and cigarettes. The fix of the morning, yet today they seemed ever so weak. Bitter sensations on the tongue - Johnny needing something new.. Something sweet.

His inner world was intense. Always maneuvering, always watching - ever changing. Those simpletons who he sped by on the inter-state know no sensation similar to the ones concocted by Johnny's dis-inhibited mind.

Many are curious, but few truly venture. Today was the day, like so many before, that one curious, light-hearted being, would accept any contingencies within coffee shop: The Cupcake Girl. After all, what was life for the young girl without knowledge of the unknown? She was so full of life, full of energy, but being virgin to many experience which she knew exist, felt like a ghost on a winding path.. She was so confused about the world.. People and their intentions.. What she wanted.. What she stood for.. The Cupcake Girl needed something stable - Something definite. Something, to hold on to.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the labyrinth, The Cupcake Girl took the leap of faith that was so intrinsic to her nature, and necessary to develop her ever curious mind regarding that of which she had no experience.

Her name was Pricilla. And she smelled exactly like she looked.

What am i if I like watching a black man have not just my gf, but want to watch black men with anypetite white female, but lately my fantasies have been about watching big black men with young white girls that are 7-10. This is a uncommon fetish. Some one tell me what this would be called. If I had a label I could get help of understanding why I have this fantasy and try to control it. Don't like it because I have Shane a guilty feelings after I masterbate.

My mom wants me to get rid of my scars...But i find i really don't want too. I don't not want to wake up and not see them there on my left shoulder, on my left wrist and my right hip bone. Sick? Very, i know. My own mom looked at me like i was crazy when i told her, which i probably am. No healthy person cuts themselves, that's obvious. Or at least in my case, used too.

I stopped cutting maybe a couple of months before high school graduation but it wasn't due to my mother finding me out. Instead my boyfriend did and made me promise to never do it again, cutting my mother to the punch line. My mom found out a month after him, i believe. She didn't believe me when i told her i stopped, so i gave her the scissors i used to hurt myself. That was my second step to stopping i guess. My third had to be when she got me medicine to take away the scars...but now on the fourth step, actually putting the stuff on, i'm stuck.

I've put it on once or twice but not religiously. I hate the idea of them not being there. They give me comfort and make me feel better. Am i wrong in wanting them there?