An Obscure Stream Of Consciousness

My flexible morals.

You see, I have this boyfriend.

He’s this beautiful intelligent bisexual caring psychotic mess of wonderful named Ian.

He has light skin, an afro, a cock ring, and the loveliest light green eyes you will ever see.

I’m falling in love with this guy. I don’t know how long it will last. I don’t know if he’ll fuck me over.

And getting hurt that way is the last thing on my agenda.

Chad is still around. My huge, dark ghost, haunting me, seducing me. My love for him still pools around my weird little heart.

I’m falling for Ian. So on Thursday, I’m going to fuck Chad.

Maybe Ian won’t understand that I need something to hold onto throughout this. I don’t trust him. I know he can hurt me. I know he probably will. So when I fall and hit the ground as he dissolves into the atmosphere, at least I will know I’m not innocent. That maybe I deserved it a little bit.

Penance for my sins. The little bit of guilt I may accumulate will crumble away. The pain will fall on such deadened nerves.

But the physical world will never lose its luster.

I might love you, Ian, and I’m not sure yet if it matters.

Cum on my shoe.

The punk show was amazing. The mosh pit was spectacular.

And walking back into the concert with cum covering my pant leg and my shoe…even that was amazing.

God…I used to be so terrified of sex. I used to hate it. It used to hurt and I would bleed and cry for hours later. He was my first everything. I’ve dated him four times. Hopefully we’ll go for number 5… but even if not, I thank him despite his psychosis.

But I’ve never felt better. I have bruises and bite marks on my inner thighs, all the way up to my pussy. My neck has exact imprints of all his teeth. And his cum is all over me. And I love it. I loved being in control for once. I loved the way this 6’3 black man leaned his head on my shoulder, the way he lost control, the way he was at MY mercy. The way he looked at me. The way he stroked me hair.

Cock used to sicken me. But now I’m okay. It’s not that I could do that for anyone. He’s the only guy I could be with and not be disgusted.

I know I’m supposed to be “classy”. I know I’m supposed to deny my sex life, to deny my desires, to keep some things…personal. But honestly, I like sharing this.

I’m going to keep sharing. It’s a beautiful thing.

It's a plan. Looooooord, I'm going to drown in my own horny-ness.

Hahahah. This is going to go down in history. No pun intended.

Sorry I’m a perv, all!

But AMAZING SEX AT A PUNK CONCERT??????

Yes, pleeeeeeease!

Would you please stop turning me on?

I’m beginning to think that I would like us to make passionate fuck at the Casualties concert tomorrow night.

My bizarre 4-times-ex. This is going to hurt later. But I got needs ; )

From the Earth to the morgue

I am not sure what there is to keep breathing for.

11728.) Even though your jokes aren't funny, i still laugh.

blogsecret:

Even though you don’t know what I want, you still try to please me. Even though you say I’m a crybaby, you cry along with me. Even though people say I deserve better, I stuck with only you. We don’t ask much from each other, but we want a lot more from each other. We try hard. We walk alone. We don’t belong together. Between the lines, two people lie together…to keep a love alive.

 Another variety of the same societal sin I am guilty of. That was fucking beautiful.

It keeps me alive

This pain keeps me awake.

Keeps me in tune with the knowledge that I exist.

And the certainty that I do not want to.

It’s so strange: I cannot picture you as an adult. I cannot imagine what will be possible for you…what sort of existence when you are what you are. It’s a terrifying prophesy…I am almost certain of it…

Stranger still: I am slowing becoming similar to you. As if you’re some sort of Christ living-rather, not living- in my soul.

No one fucking has a clue.

And no one is to blame

I can’t hate you for what you are.

chad.

I <3 you. Always.

No one else is going to understand. But I don’t need them.

I don’t need them at all.

It may be painful.

But you’re honest.

And you care.

And fuck. I am resolving to die for this. They’re going to say it will pass. But it hurts because it will never pass, and we both know it, and even now I am vague about the details because no one is going to every understand this shit.

Never. What in the hell am I without you? What am I ? What is the goddamn point?

There is not a fucking point. There isn’t. But you…you’re going to be this numb shell of a human and I am going to know that what you wrote was written for me and it’s the closest thing to giving me your heart that will ever take place. I cannot resolve this. You cannot, either. Talking about it is useless. You’re numb. I’m a throbbing, bleeding waif slowly eating herself.

Devouring herself. Never being filled. Never dying, either.

Rather a secret euphoria than an opiate of the masses.