I’m laying on the floor in fetal position because I’ve be crying and it comforts me to lay this way.
I found out I gave Mr Artist chlamydia, which makes me feel horrible.
He’s being super understanding and sweet about it which makes me feel even shittier because I haven’t missed him the past two days of not talking to him.
I wasn’t going to talk to him today either but he texted me saying it’s important and it was.
I’ve been feeling so calm and clear lately but then the consequences of my past sexcapades just slapped me in the face like a wet hand on a cold day.
I have never felt so dirty, angry, and embarrassed in my life.
I contacted sex boy because I’m pretty sure I got it from him.
What I thought was a bad UTI was probably also the symptoms from chlamydia because they are very similar.
I started feeling the symptoms not long after we had sex that once so I’m guessing he has to be the winner.
I also contacted Mr K because he’s the only other guy I still can get in contact with and even though it’s unlikely I had it then, I just wanted to be sure.
He thanked me and stated he had been tested and was clear after we had sex so that was a relief. He asked me questions about it and in my panicked processing, I answered his questions.
His stark, unemotional responses stung a bit but it just made me realize how much better off I am without him in my life and made it easier to not miss him anymore.
He did tell me I should reconsider giving Mr Artist another chance since I gave him an STD, he’s not mad about it and still wants to be with me.
Seems like everyone thinks we should be together except me.
Anyway, fuck you Mr K.
What do you know?
I feel like a diseased slut.
That’s harsh, I know.
People tell me not to be so hard on myself but I made these decisions.
I was reckless and careless with my body and heart.
Now I have to deal with the consequences.
I get tested tomorrow but I’m 100% sure I have it.
Mr. Artist’s ex is clear and he didn’t get it out of nowhere.
I just want to get treated and put this all behind me.
My stupid past with my fucked up head because of my fucked up heart.
I’m not fucked up anymore.
I’ve reached the place I wanted to be.
I’m not filling anymore voids, numbing pains, or impulsively giving into every whim.
I’ve grown up.
I’m okay with being alone now.
But reality is that consequences come with ill timing.
And they must be paid.
At least this payment is a round of medication and embarrassment.
Lesson is learned.