So if you ever have to use Kleenex, better be cause you're jerking off instead of getting misty eyes.
That's why I won't blog about too deep or emotional stuff. Some people don't get that. They think I'm a shallow bitch always looking for her next fuck.
Well... I AM, but that's not the point. I'm not shallow. I am nothing but the shell of a constant emotional whirlpool. Every day I go through maelstroms of feelings.
I might very well be bipolar, but I function better without medication. As long as I don't hurt myself or others, right?
My default mood is "happy", not "depressed", so I take it as a sign that things evolved in my life.
Last night, I asked my most recent ex how I should get over my current ... disatisfaction with the way a potential relationship with a guy turned out. He replied "random sex".
Ironic how apparently the problem at hand is I cannot sustain a monogamous relationship. I'm a whore, I fuck around and nobody could change anything about it... Ain't life grand?
Is communication dead? Why people rather accuse, judge and carry the execution on their perception of things instead of, you know, inquire if their perception is accurate?
It's a bit of a self fullfilling prophecy too. Like hell I'm going to try and open up to anyone now about wanting to be with them. They all stay on my fuckbuddy roster and that's it!
That and I'm not nearly having sex enough lately. Especially anal sex. I crave it like the blinds crave seeing the light.