I’m Making a Choice: Introduction to the Camming Days


My dearest loves, I’ve chosen to share with you one of the darkest times of my life: The years from fourteen to sixteen. Those were the years I spent stripping online. However, seeing as this will involve mature content, I’ve chosen to create another blog that will act as my place for mature/sexual topics.

(Note: I’m seventeen, and will be creating an 18+ blog. Am I the only one laughing a bit?)

Seeing as not everyone will WANT to head over to the 18+ blog, I’ll just make sure everyone knows that reading it will NOT be necessary to follow the posts I write here. In fact, the only real relationship the two blogs will have is that they will OCCASIONALLY reference each other.

As I said on Half-Mad Submissive’s Musings, the blog is by no means the work of an expert; meant to offend; or to be hated upon. It is simply the dirtier part of my brain, and nothing more.

Honestly, I’m not sure entirely WHY I’m sharing all of this with you. It will be painful for me to relay some of the stories, and I don’t expect/desire views and comments. It’s just something for me to do to fill up the time, and maybe to keep as a record of my life.

Also, seeing as there’s a chance people who know me in real life will see this post, do whatever you desire.

Just don’t make any trouble for me, please; I’m unashamed of my past, and I would request that my past is not used to judge me today. I know I made mistakes.

I screwed up, in thousands of ways. I know this.

Do not make me regret my honesty.


Pride vs Self-Loathing: Why I Need to Lose Weight


Let’s face it, I’m screwed up. I was bullied all my childhood, manipulated into stripping on cam from the ages of fourteen to sixteen, my mind separated into what could almost have been called Dissociative Identity Disorder, and I even dealt with a mild form of PTSD. I wanted to kill myself three times, each time getting very close to actually attempting it.

I’m massively screwed up. Even to this day, I have a hard time speaking up in person about anything personal–and, the only time I do, it’s pretty much only with someone I’ve known forever. In school, I’m lucky if I raise my hand willingly once a week. I’m that shy.

So, what I need to do is make myself better. I need to turn myself into someone who, even though I’ll probably never get past the whole I’m-more-interesting-to-talk-to-than-everyone-else stage of my mentality, will be brave enough to actually be less of a wallflower. I’m tired of fading into the background, and feeling like air.

I need to get more confident, so the only way I can think of is positive affirmations–with my healthier lifestyle. I’ll feel a lot better when I am no longer living with a Body Mass Index (BMI) of…insert a number here that sits pretty solidly in the ‘obese’ range, not just overweight. When I get down to my goal weight of 150, I will be able to look back at myself and realize just how much I accomplished.

That, darlings, will be 50 pounds lost.

Once I get down to 150, I might even go further–whatever it takes to love myself again.

I really don’t love myself, which is…not good in a relationship. You can’t love someone else unless you love yourself, as the saying goes. I still see, all too well, the amount of times I’ve failed–and the realization that I weigh so very much is not something that helped me like me.

I have to admit that I feel better about myself now that I’ve lost weight, though–the fact that I’m changing is certainly helping me feel better.

I just wish that I could go back in time, and shake myself. Stop myself from ever getting this far–both in weight, and in emotions. I want to genuinely trust myself again, and have faith I won’t get too far. I haven’t felt that I can trust myself in a very long time.

A part of me wishes I could go back, and stop myself from being abused. So I wouldn’t deal with intimacy issues, fear, and a need to be abused. So I wouldn’t deal with feeling like I was nothing unless I was lusted after.

The rest of me?

It’s glad I got the kick in the pants I needed to be awake, and more aware of myself. It’s glad I’ve got the anger to fuel my self-improvement, as well as a deep need for change. It’s glad I got the ability to mature and improve, from making so large a mistake.

Still, that doesn’t mean I’m secure in myself. I NEED to feel needed, quite a bit. I don’t feel well unless I’m loved.

Maybe one day I’ll get past it?


One day, I WILL get past it.

One day, I will be both proud of, and love, myself.

A New Vow


Right now, I am working as hard as I can to lose weight. So, a bit about me–I was never thin. I was always curvy. Okay, okay–I was always edging into the realm of fat. I’m short, and currently weighing around 200 pounds. So, I’m not exactly healthy.

I hate it. Naturally, my darling boyfriend doesn’t care about my looks–he, in fact, likes me just how I am now. He’s said often that he thinks I shouldn’t worry about my looks whatsoever, but….I need to. I need to worry about my looks. I need to get thinner, and that’s a fact.

However, I’m in danger of causing myself bodily harm from doing this.

I need to figure out how to eat well, without starving myself. So, I need to count calories less and balance my workout load with my calorie intake.

However, this is going to be hard. I really don’t want to eat a lot anymore, but then that might turn into an eating disorder.

I don’t want to get that extreme.

I know my love wouldn’t allow me to do it, but then again, he doesn’t know everything I do about my weight loss right now. In fact, he isn’t going to find out about the diet pills my mom is going to get me to help me lose weight. I really am never going to tell him about that, because I am…I am pushing what I’m doing.

I’m scaring myself ever so slightly, and I’m getting worried I will just do myself harm.

So, that’s why I’m going to make myself a vow.

I’m not going to kill myself with this. I’m going to lose weight in a healthy fashion, by eating a good amount and remaining continually hydrated. I’m going to exercise–a few KM walk and an hour-long swim session of laps at the beach (or, seeing as I can’t feel my feet for blisters, two hour-long swim sessions). I’m going to be healthy.

I’m going to do this for me, and I’m going to get from 106 pounds to 180 pounds.

WITHOUT killing myself in the process.

This is the Half-Mad Writer, saying thanks for listening to my rambles.

I love you all.

To Post Novels, or Not to Post Novels!


Okay, everyone. As everyone who’s encountered me on the web before (at http://www.regainingwings.blogspot.ca or even at normalisonlyrelative.blogspot.ca ) then you’ll know I tended to have an awfully large bookshelf, where I had many novels posted. What I’d like to know is whether or not to re-post them onto this blog.

Would all of you lovely new readers like to read: The Talents, For Love of Minecraftia, Stone Gate, Her, or any of my other writing projects?

~~In the Beginning….~~


In the beginning….In the beginning, what was there?

In the beginning, there was peace.There was quiet, loneliness, love, heartache, rock music, and sometimes depression. I grew up lonely–I had one main friend, and he was a selective mute. Seeing as I had a rather extensive speech impediment (I had difficulty pronouncing: ‘S’, ‘th’, ‘l’, and ‘r’ as well as a few others) he and I weren’t the most talkative pair. He barely spoke to anyone but me, and to me, he would rarely speak an actual sentence. Needless to say, he got bullied a lot–and I got bullied a lot for defending him.

Most of my childhood memories involve being bullied, really. Still, I have to say there were good memories, too–I travelled the world, wrote a 121 page novel (by hand!) at the age of eleven, threw rockin’ parties that hosted anywhere from thirty people to over a hundred (my family’s awesome), and I read a huge amount of books.

I still read a huge amount, by the way–fantasy, romance, science-fiction, horror, manga of many different genres, webcomics, and anything that makes me think. I also read a bit of non-fiction, too–mainly stuff that relates to things I’m writing about, though.

I’ve always been a writer. At the very least, I’ve always been telling stories. Always, always been telling stories. Ever since I learned to talk, I could tell stories that stretched on for hours–and I’ve held onto that ability, even though now it’s transitioned to being able to type at ninety-words-a-minute and think even faster.

So, that explains the ‘writer’ part of the ‘Half-Mad Writer’ name. What about the ‘Half-Mad’ part?

I’ve always been just a bit off. Well, I guess you could call me: Eccentric, weird, unique, odd, crazy, strange, disturbing, or just plain silly. I don’t enjoy doing what other people do, and find myself most at home with a book and Jasmine Tea. I like anime, but I’m not an otaku. I like video games, but I’m not a gamer. I don’t really categorize easily.

Oh, yes. I also believe in there being something supernatural. There has to be more to this world than what we see and feel.

I’ve also known, for the longest time, that I lost my mind. That’s the only way to explain the emptiness in my chest, the screaming voices in my skull, or the maelstrom of thoughts that escape onto pages upon pages of innocent-white paper. I have issues trusting people, trusting myself, and believing that there IS something good coming. I lost hope in the world a long time ago–about the same time that I decided it isn’t worth caring about what other people think of me.


So, if you want to know what to expect from me….

Just expect half-mad words from a broken girl. Poetry, prose, stories, novels–everything, and nothing. Insanity and love, all mixed together with a pinch of joy and dash of sorrow.


With love, the Half-Mad Writer