A confession

The first time I masturbated was in kindergarten around the age of 5. We had gotten our first ever computer at home and as I usually played children’s games, I somehow got into playing “sex games” online which were essentially undressing cartoon characters. I used to masturbate in kindergarten during nap time as I never wanted to sleep and was bored. I did feel it was wrong so I stopped. Years later when I was 13, I started watching actual porn after romance books having such sexual undertones. It was a period of my life where I was depressed and lonely, so I relied throughout the entire day on watching porn without even getting any pleasure out of it. I compulsively did it daily. As time went by and I wanted to be a highly functioning person in society, I started to fill in my time with other things, such as socialising, school, work, etc. But I would then have to get the same fix from just a couple of minutes of porn. I could not get in the mood when I was having sex with a guy without imagining other people fucking as if I’m observing or an angle that I could not possibly see. As I was constantly exposed to murder documentaries and gruesome disturbing stories all over YouTube and Netflix, I have become desensitised towards the most brutal and disgusting content imaginable. I don’t find it enjoyable for myself or for anyone else. I constantly felt like I need to be euthanised after. I want to go out and have a caring and loving relationship. I am irritated that wherever I look I am exposed to some content that is giving me an extreme adrenaline fix. I have deleted all apps on my phone. I don’t watch Netflix. But why is it so acceptable to talk about gruesome and disturbing things? My brain is having a field day from a story. But I am trying. But I am so bored. I constantly think about sex. It’s never in an extreme way for which I am very happy. But how the fuck am I supposed to meet someone and have the real thing when I constantly imagine it and it feels real?