Years ago, before successfully quitting chewing tobacco, were the dozen times I failed to quit chewing tobacco. One day I got home from work, parked my car in the garage of my apartment complex, swore it off, threw the can in the dumpster, and went upstairs. An hour later I went to the basement and got it out of the dumpster. I did this dance more than once.

I’m a guy in a relationship with a girl who doesn’t know that I’m bi, but I’ve been lusting after my straight best friend so much that at one point I actually convinced myself that I was in a relationship with him. She doesn’t know any of this.

I have a deep love for human beings and life in general that has been a great source of happiness and peace until a few years ago, when I noticed it being overshadowed by a powerful homicidal rage toward those who insist on fucking it all up (corrupt, warmongering politicians, religious fanatics, etc), that’s really only being kept in check by my desire to avoid prison and not disappoint my loved ones.

I masturbate in public — even when there is someone sitting right next to me. This started around 8, in the backseat of the car, while my parents were driving. I think the weirdest place I’ve done it was on a boat ride, stuck between some middle aged man and my aunt.

I shit my pants in the journalism room when I was a junior in high school. There was just too much pressure on my pancreatic region, and boom. Shit pants in high school. Luckily, it was journalism and we had freedom so I left immediately, went to the bathroom, threw away the boxers, tidied up and went to lunch.

I have a severely autistic brother and I don’t really care about him. I treat him well and I hang out with him, but if he died tomorrow I just wouldn’t care. More than anything I would feel awkward because I know my mom would be incredibly upset and it would be hard being around her. I feel like such an asshole about it all of the time.

I have deeply rooted anger and resentment to every member of my immediate family. None of them have done anything major, but years and years of smaller lies and of mental abuse has led me to looking forward to the day I graduate college and move out. This is a secret because my family thinks I love them.

Sometimes when I get really stressed, thoughts of experiencing extreme violence calm me down. There are nights when I fall asleep thinking of being put on a conveyor belt that goes into a meat grinder and feeling my bones crack and pop while my body gets crushed. Other times I just think about a shotgun blast to my face or being smashed in a car wreck.

It’s probably no secret to anybody paying attention, but I’m a alcoholic. The sauce and I get along just fine.

My fiancé and his family are religious and I wasn’t but I tried out the church scene (which is where he and I grew close, and then started dating) but I don’t like Christianity. I tried it but there are a few problems I have with it a religion in general. He’s recently starting doubting god. His mom thinks we’re happy little Christians not having sex or anything and because of this we can’t tell her half of the real things we do, i.e. the real story behind our engagement (because he knocked me up).