Author Archives: jadeamethystt




While we sit here knowing,
but not comprehending
why we are so different,
we stare at the sun.
Blindly, we forget–
it’s the same one.
Looking at our friends–
each one has a heart
bound to find us
We’re not so different
after all.

You’re one thing I can’t let go of…
you’re one person that I
cannot bear to lose.

Please don’t pick me away.
If I can’t be anything to you,
at least, let me scar you.
I just wanted to love you.
Ever since I knew you
I wanted to love you.

I remember the way you were
when you became angry.
You’d speak fast and you would storm
when you walked.
Something about you
empathized with me.

If I could say one thing, it’d be
I miss you, but most of all I wish
the best for you.
And I want to be free, but I feel that I cannot,
without you here.

My dreams may only be dreams,
but you stand there
in real life.

Our moments– speechless as they are,
feel like an eternity
in a different world.

Are you going to hold me again,
and tell me how I made you feel?
Or must I always imagine
the words you might say?
Was it all just a dream,
or did I grapple
through your words, through the way
we moved, that hey…
you loved me?

JadeAmethystt is a contributing writer for Get instant updates for this blog via Twitter: PGTblog.


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Hypochondriacs Anonymous.

Yesterday a friend suggested something very probable to me. I may just be a hypochondriac. Like always, I researched this possibility. It affects 6% of the population, but I also don’t know how old that statistic is. It seems very low, but I could consider myself as being one.

When I was in 9th grade, after learning about STDs, I thought that I had an STD. I thought that I had genital warts. I began checking myself constantly for signs of STDs. I also thought that I was pregnant, and that running excessive miles in cross-country would make the baby go away. People, I was a virgin.

I had nothing wrong with me, except that I was advised by my doctor to get more Iron in my blood because I was close to having blood-deficiency.

Years passed in high school. When I began having sex, the worries began once again. I learned that I really, really loved sex. So I did it often. I used protection, minus 1 or 2 times. When I first came to college, I got tested for everything, including HIV/AIDS. Most people I know have A) Never had a blood test or B) Have them once a year, if not, less. Others do not go to the doctor when they “think” they have something, and others have unprotected sex when they know they have something, such as HPV.

Why do people do this? I don’t know and I can’t imagine their reasoning. Me, on the other hand, will wake up the next day after engaging in protected sexual activity, and think that I have somehow contracted HIV, warts, chlamydia, and gotten pregnant. These worries sometimes consume me to the point where my body begins creating fake symptoms. I have actually begun shaking, thoughts spinning in my head, keeping me up at night. I have put myself in cold sweats, and then gone on to think that it’s a sign of a disease. I have had body aches, and made myself believe it was a sign of HIV.

When these worries happen, I then begin to bother my past sexual partners– texting, calling– to ask them if they have had STDs. At the time of sexual encounter, this question was already asked. However, I have trouble actually believing the person.

Condoms are 97% effective against the transmission of STDs and HIV/AIDS if used correctly. This is true, right? This means that 97% of the time, I am safe from contracting a disease. Yet, months after my last sexual partner, I will still imagine that he has given me something, even if I have NO symptoms at all.

I have gotten yearly pap smears since I was 18. 2-3 of those years, I had returned to the doctor for more pap smears. This is excessive, but so are two blood tests a year. I have wasted hours in the waiting room and hours worrying at home. The final answer from my doctor has always been this: Your pap smear came back normal. Your blood test came back negative.

Since my last pap smear, I have had 8 sexual partners, due to my excessive drinking and black outs. 2 of these were unprotected, yet contributing to no symptoms of anything. The rest of these partners used condoms. Sex is something I love, and I do not really regret my decisions because of that. But I do regret that I waste so much time worrying. Currently, I believe that I have contracted herpes from an ex-hook up partner/boyfriend/guy I dated. I make myself believe that people have it out for me, and that they have plans to give me diseases. Currently, I also believe that I could be pregnant, even though my period came on time last month, I’ve gained no weight, and have no symptoms. Whenever I have PMS (breasts become tender, moods become irritable), I attribute it to pregnancy and head to the computer where I research all the symptoms, putting myself into a shaking nervous anxiety attack. Then my period will come on time.

I always misdiagnose ingrown hairs for genital warts or herpes. I check myself everytime I get out of the shower, unless I forget.

I don’t know why I have unprotected sex with some people, but that is completely my fault. If I should go to the doctor again for tests, it would be the third doctor visit in less than 6 months. It would also be my second blood test in one year.

Perhaps I should stop seeing the doctor, and instead, see a psychologist. As far as I know, I have HIV, herpes, gonorrhea, and HPV in the back of my throat. My neck currently aches, probably from all the worry and staring at an online medical database. I woke up with aching shoulders, probably from sleeping in angst.

You may be thinking, “Well, stop having sex.” or “Go get tested.”

My fears have become so irrational that I am trying, for once, to resist going to the doctor unless or until major symptoms should arise. I have always been careful, this is a fact, for at least 98% of the time. Each time I go to the doctor, I am told that I am fine. Also, I have been to the doctor so many times this year that I have reached my family insurance cap. I went a couple more times because I got a yeast infection and I had poison ivy, however I thought that the poison ivy was scabies. I knew I had a yeast infection, but I didn’t believe myself, and figured it was clamydia. I am always a nervous wreck. Now, I am trying to deal with the problems myself instead of getting in my car, running out for plan B, pregnancy tests, researching every STD known to humankind (including pictures of infected people, and comparing them to my perfectly healthy-looking private parts). I am trying, for once in my life, to be rational and putĀ  my worries into other forms. Now, I’m trying to move on with my life and leave my worries behind. Having numerous body ailments = unrealistic. Cleaning my room = realistic.

I hope that I do not need therapy for this, but it may be a good idea. Whenever I see a therapist, I just sit in the chair and don’t really say anything. I think I’m a hypochondriac, but I also may just be faking the symptoms, even though my heart has been pounding and I’m feeling nervous as I’ve typed this entire thing.

I hope that you, the reader, can provide me with some helpful insights, aside from the old adage, “Get tested,” as I know my body very well and the rational part of my brain is beginning to say, “Do not worry unless you have a reason to.” Thank you for reading.

JadeAmethystt is a contributing writer for Get instant updates for this blog via Twitter: PGTblog.


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Amethyst and Nathaniel’s Especially Friendly Affairs. (Excerpt of my novel in-progress).

“Nathaniel!” I caught his attention, interrupting what was being said to Cheyenne. I noticed their ongoing conversation, waited for a pause, but when one seemed inconceivable, I cut it short.

“Hey,” he turned, responding attentively.
I looked in his eyes and asked, “What’s your shirt say?”
He pulled taut his shirt so that I could read it. “Quarry Street,” he said.
“Oh,” I said, with a hint of interest. That’s cool.
He told me the story of how he obtained it from a thrift shop.
“I like it,” I said, smiling.
He smiled back at me.

“Do you want to borrow some clothes?” he asked.
“Umm…” she thought. “Yeah.” She loved sleeping in boys’ clothes. He handed her a black Brand New shirt and a pair of blue athletic shorts. He waited in his bed while she changed. She put the shorts on underneath her miniskirt, and then shimmied out of her A&F denim. She pulled the shirt over her body, and then slid her tube top through the bottom. Then she unhooked her bra and pulled it through a sleeve, concluding the change-clothing spectacle. Even she felt impressed with herself. She crawled into bed and lay down beside him. He turned out the lights.

“Can I cuddle with you?” he asked when they were settled in the dark.
“Yeah… yeah,” she said. ” I love it.” She wrapped his arms around her body, letting him hold her tightly.

She turned her head and looked at him. They reached for each other and kissed, until it became a full-on makeout session. She continued touching him until he removed her shorts, and pulled off her lacy white thong. She knew what this meant and it excited her too much to think about anything else.

He could read her like a map. His tongue knew exactly which spots to hit and how to make her twist and turn. She opened her legs and pushed her thighs down; she wanted him inside. “I love it when I make you squirm,” he said between breaths, as he felt her with his fingers. She traced the curves of her breasts. He wouldn’t stop and she didn’t want him to. With her hands behind his head, she pulled him deeper and spread herself farther apart, filling herself with the rapture of his gifted tongue.

She longed to repay him, but he was too amazing, too intimidating. Performing on him would be mediocre, she thought. Besides, she wanted him now. She wanted to feel him inside her. She wanted so badly to kiss him and love him the way he had loved her. She imagined the warm fluid running down her throat if he came, the pulsations she would feel before she would get to taste him. But if she didn’t have him now, she was afraid that she might lose him forever.

Their friendship meant too much. She saves fellatio, similarly, in the way a virgin waits for marriage. She wants to perform, desperately, but only to one guy– he who becomes her boyfriend. She fears that anyone else would leave her if she gave in. Judas had left her, and she had bowed to him every time. Never again, she promised herself.


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The Real World, or Whatever I Can Tell You.

Since I’ve been out of school and back in the “real world” I really haven’t noticed that much of a change. Sure, there are more babies, children, and families. But it’s actually not all that different. People still just want to have a good time, you still have to do the dishes, go grocery shopping, and somehow obtain money.

So last night, I went out to a new bar with my friends. I had a fun time. There was dancing, drinking, socializing, the usual. What has changed from OU has to be the smorgasbord of new, available, and wanting guys. The bar is bigger, there are more people, and everybody was an unfamiliar face. Yet, the guys were such huge horndogs. I was amazed. My friend and I were hit by three guys as soon as we were spotted at an empty table. Upon their leave, I asked one of him for his name.

“It’s Jordan.”
“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Jade.” He turned away before even hearing my name, following his friends.

Earlier that night, as Dani and I were walking by ourselves into the bar, a guy who stood outside said, “Hey! Hey! Can I talk to you girls for a minute?”
“Umm… sure,” I mumbled, as we hurried inside. We never talked to the guy.

Later on, while we sat at our again-empty table, a group of about five guys grabbed the table beside us. They walked past us, staring and smiling awkwardly. Two of them tried to be sneaky and sat on the stools that accompanied our table. I had noticed one of them had been checking me out for some time across the room. He got up to play an electronic game of bowling, therefore, requiring that he stand beside me. After he solicited my general area for a good minute or so, he asked me.

“Hey can you bowl??”
“Uhhmm.. yeah!” I replied enthusiastically.
He asked that I bowl the next round on the virtual game, to which I gladly accepted. A free game is a free game. He flirted with me for a few minutes before deciding to run off with his friends as well. Disappointingly, he too, did not ask for my name. Throughout the night, Dani and I spotted him macking on several different girls. Tsk, tsk. Guys these days.

Perhaps it was the fact that Dani and I had arrived with our two male friends, and possibly, our group as a whole was the driving-away factor for those young men. There had to have been three times as many guys as there were girls in the large, wooden bar that was reminiscent of a ski lodge– deer heads on the walls and a dancing bear (no kidding).

The thing is, having been through college, high school, and everything in between– family vacations to populated cities, beaches, boardwalks– I’ve learned what a guy wants:

To Get Laid.

No guy walks into the bar thinking, “I hope I meet a really intellectual, smart woman tonight.” How many young men asked for my name? How many numbers did I give away? Zero (I’m not complaining). All I can say is, I’ve met better young men in Athens. I could at least go somewhere and the person would engage in a conversation, but maybe that’s just because they knew me. Either way, I’m tired of the charade. So they can dress up all nice and look good, and they’re clean and wearing a nice shirt. The truth is, guys are not really like that. When they’re with their friends, they’re talking about who they banged and giving away intimate details, or else they’re farting or talking about shitting. They put on this big facade when they’re out looking for girls. They try to say, with their appearance and demeanor: “I’m the whole package, baby.”

Well, news flash, they’re not. The whole package to me is a guy who is simply, himself. I’m not saying, don’t shower for five days and then go out. I’m just saying, don’t be afraid of who you are. Guys don’t have to impress girls. What radiates is a person who knows themselves. It’s so easy to tell who plays a part and who doesn’t.

Anyway, I miss all my guy friends in Athens. I kind of took for granted how respectful they are. They don’t try to get my attention from the doorway (unless I walk down south Court), and there’s no unwanted grinding on my ass (unless it’s international dance night). The guys I saw last night stuck together in packs, like a gang of dogs. It didn’t even look like they were approaching us, but rather, they were attacking the next available girls. And they couldn’t do it without their crew. I’m just not used to it. Do I really have to go through all these guys, and more, just to find the one that I want? This is horrible, annoying, and terrifying. I thought that college would be it for me in the weeding of guys, and I wished that it would be. Oh well… I guess this is the real world– a complete jolt from my comfortable little bubble in Athens.


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