I’ve forgotten what sadness tasted like until I spent most of today wanting to die like last year.
I haven’t been happy for a long time.
I can’t seem to grasp how to let go of what pains me because it is almost as if I love torture myself.
I can’t even verbalize or type whats in my head.
Its all too fucking confusing.
We gave eachother handjobs in the parking lot before class and I wanted nothing more than to pass the time just hearing him squirm and moan from the rhythmic motion of my touch.
Today was great.
Ive been sitting here not doing anything.
I have so much homework but my mind is telling me nooooooooooo.
i hope his fly is open the whole period again.
Today we started making love while sorting laundry but I wanted nothing more than for his lips to do more than tell me how much he loved me.
We fucked hard, in my sheetless bed, raw and uncovered, as the wind blew into the same curtains I would soon forget to take with me.
I rode him in colors and sunshine changes before the sky showed pieces of the afternoon ahead. I moaned to soundscapes of vivaldi and growled to the rhythmic motion of tongue flicks and hand gripped pleasure while feeling his pulse as we cummed together.
I asked this other gay guy in class what I could do to make myself hotter and he told me to just work out and do something out of the ordinary to my hair. Six other people chimed in and agreed. This one kid said “Your personality is awesome” but if your concerned about looks do what James said. James is the other gay kid I originally asked the question to.
I dont know what it is about me that makes people want to touch me.
Like my professor today was so handsy with me, grabbing my shoulders and my arms as I went into the dark room
while developing film.
Then this girl from high school grabs my nipple and asks me if ive been working out.
I hate being touched. It creeps me the fuck out.
Why must people put their hands on me. I don’t know where your hands have been. Please stop.
This girl in my graphics class.