Mania: Fabric Softener & Coney Island
I have discovered the wonder of fabric softener. Maybe I'm a little late to the party, but I never really thought about using it before. How did I ever manage that? Now that I'm hooked on it, I know I can never let it go. I want to wrap myself in the beautiful scent of fresh mountain air (though I know it doesn't really smell like that). I want to roll around in it. I want the softness to wrap around me. I'd fuck it if I could. The windows are open, cool spring ear caresses my overheated body, my cells screaming in relief. I roll around in the sheets, bathing in the golden light of early morning. It tastes like marshmallows and sugar cubes. It feels as if I have sparklers going off in my veins. I want to laugh and make noises-I don't even realise guttural noises escape me as I claw through the bedding. Fornicating in the sunlight with the demons that hide inside me. Intoxicated by the allurement. I want it all. I need it all.
My fingers dance across the keyboard, they feel soft, almost candy-like. I don't know exactly why. My thoughts swirl around me, memories excite me, driving me to the point of climax-I don't even have to touch myself. That beautiful release that only comes with orgasm washes over my body, the tension softens. I exhale candy floss and breathe in chocolate sauce. I'm obsessed with ideas of sweets. Bathing in all that is forbidden to me. If I indulge in them I will surely have to throw them up. Daydreaming of doughnuts and delicious whipped cream desires the number on the scale echoes through me and tells me no. No matter what I do, I'm walking a tightrope. Listen here, listen here! Trapped by addiction, trapped by wanting to taste, trapped by wanting to feel my bones. I don't know if there's a salvation from this. I'm not here screaming for attention or pity. I just need to get all of these racing thoughts out of me. Daydreams pollute the soul and corrupt the mind. They fill your head with fluff and distract you from the reality around you; a reality you need in order to actually live.
It feels as if I'm back at Coney Island. Ride the rides until my thoughts blur into nothing more than static. I don't want them to make sense. I don't want to break them down and find meaning and alternate meanings. I want my body to fly through the air on the rides, the wind blowing my fringe across my face, the anxiety of rollercoasters caught in the pit of my stomach. That's the good kind of anxiety there.
...
Then I wake up later, completely exhausted. I'm half in the bed, half out of it. My stomach is in knots and my mouth definitely does not taste of sweet treats. It tastes like sour vomit and regret. I can't bring myself to roll over. Another sun has risen and has almost set by the time I start to feel somewhat human again. I'm breathing slower. Colours aren't so annoyingly vivid. I can hear my thoughts at an even pace, not racing around inside my skull. I'm exhausted. I wish I could be lulled to sleep by the rain splashing against my windows, but I can't seeing as I have to head to work in a few hours. I'd love to take the day off, but I know there's far too much to do there. I can't take a day off. Why am I working myself to the bone for a company that will never reward me? They haven't yet. I was lied to about the tranny joke situation, that was never handled, I perform amazingly well and still get screwed over on everything else. I want to suffocate in my pillow and just be done with it. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the day. It's only for 5 hours. That's not too bad a shift. But I know I can't say no to Snuggles. I can't let him down. He helps me so much. My loyalty to him keeps me going to work when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and metaphorically sob. The depression is creeping in. This isn't just me coming down. Its a dramatic mood dip. I shouldn't feel like this, I'm taking medication. I've been taking it. I'm just...maybe there is no salvation for me. I close my eyes and hope that the morning never comes.
My fingers dance across the keyboard, they feel soft, almost candy-like. I don't know exactly why. My thoughts swirl around me, memories excite me, driving me to the point of climax-I don't even have to touch myself. That beautiful release that only comes with orgasm washes over my body, the tension softens. I exhale candy floss and breathe in chocolate sauce. I'm obsessed with ideas of sweets. Bathing in all that is forbidden to me. If I indulge in them I will surely have to throw them up. Daydreaming of doughnuts and delicious whipped cream desires the number on the scale echoes through me and tells me no. No matter what I do, I'm walking a tightrope. Listen here, listen here! Trapped by addiction, trapped by wanting to taste, trapped by wanting to feel my bones. I don't know if there's a salvation from this. I'm not here screaming for attention or pity. I just need to get all of these racing thoughts out of me. Daydreams pollute the soul and corrupt the mind. They fill your head with fluff and distract you from the reality around you; a reality you need in order to actually live.
It feels as if I'm back at Coney Island. Ride the rides until my thoughts blur into nothing more than static. I don't want them to make sense. I don't want to break them down and find meaning and alternate meanings. I want my body to fly through the air on the rides, the wind blowing my fringe across my face, the anxiety of rollercoasters caught in the pit of my stomach. That's the good kind of anxiety there.
...
Then I wake up later, completely exhausted. I'm half in the bed, half out of it. My stomach is in knots and my mouth definitely does not taste of sweet treats. It tastes like sour vomit and regret. I can't bring myself to roll over. Another sun has risen and has almost set by the time I start to feel somewhat human again. I'm breathing slower. Colours aren't so annoyingly vivid. I can hear my thoughts at an even pace, not racing around inside my skull. I'm exhausted. I wish I could be lulled to sleep by the rain splashing against my windows, but I can't seeing as I have to head to work in a few hours. I'd love to take the day off, but I know there's far too much to do there. I can't take a day off. Why am I working myself to the bone for a company that will never reward me? They haven't yet. I was lied to about the tranny joke situation, that was never handled, I perform amazingly well and still get screwed over on everything else. I want to suffocate in my pillow and just be done with it. I don't know how I'm going to make it through the day. It's only for 5 hours. That's not too bad a shift. But I know I can't say no to Snuggles. I can't let him down. He helps me so much. My loyalty to him keeps me going to work when all I want to do is curl up in a ball and metaphorically sob. The depression is creeping in. This isn't just me coming down. Its a dramatic mood dip. I shouldn't feel like this, I'm taking medication. I've been taking it. I'm just...maybe there is no salvation for me. I close my eyes and hope that the morning never comes.
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