Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Steal me away Jess

This morning around 3am my phone kept ringing. I finally woke up and answered it. It was a guy with a British accent. His name was Liam, and he was from England. He had read my blog and happened across the comment where I left my cell phone number. Since I was awake I didn't give him a hard time for calling me. I decided I would talk with him, since he was praising me for my writing skills, and how much he wished he could meet me because he thinks we are soul mates. He even got out his guitar and played Polly over the phone for me. He says he's a junky. He's 32, lives in West London. His parents allow him to stay at their house, which is where he uses the Internet. He just came across my blog two days ago, and has read what he can from the first blog in 2008, to the beginning of 2009. He read all the recent ones and knows that I'm infatuated with that guy named Jess. He even admitted to masturbating to the last post that detailed the sex I had with that guy. So I sat up and let this guy boost my ego for two hours. He begged me to fly to London. I told him I wish he would have called two months ago before that guy came along when I was very lonely and wished every day that someone would fall in love with me via my blog. My blog is word for word who I am. Reading this you get to know who I am. Every mundane part of my life, every mundane thought I have. I would guess that most people are turned off by this blog. Liam on the other hand is turned on. He has fallen in love with my words. With my mundane life, and thoughts.

He's probably a crazy stalker. Sorry Liam if your reading. You sounded normal on the phone, but don't all crazy stalkers. Hey, I'm a crazy stalker too. Just ask that guy. I haven't out right stalked him, but I've had a hissy fit when he didn't text me back all day. Only to find out he was just swimming with friends all day. I sorta wish that, that guy stalked me. It would be sexy if he found a window in the kitchen, let himself in, rummaged through the refrigerator, pour himself a beer, stumbled outside my bedroom door, knowing I'm lying in there my legs are bare, I call out to him, he can hear the fear in my voice, I pull the covers tighter, he presses against the door, he will be with me tonight. Weather I like it or not. I guess if you want him to stalk you its not really stalking is it? Jess please stalk me. Steal me and take me to Mexico. We can drive to any place, day and night to cross this state. In the morning we will wake up someplace else.

Its probably best that I don't date any junkys. I'd devastate my parents. Every time I leave the house now they worry that I'm getting high. They call me and try to surprise me, as if they would catch me off guard. I think what they are trying to do is see if my speech is slurred. The biggest tip off that I'm shooting dope. Every time I go to see that guy I can hear the suspicion in their voices, is there really a even a Jess. When I get home I can see them sorta eyeing my hands and arms to see if there is any red marks where a spike found its way in. Which is the opposite of what I do at his house. I don't do any drugs at his house. Nothing more than I do at home. Just my Clonazepam which is prescribed to me, so its not illegal. The only thing that finds its way into me when I go to that guys house is his cock.

I don't know what else to write about. I'm sick of writing about that guy. I've said all there is to say about how much I like him. I've said all there is to say about how much I love Heroin. I feel okay today as for my weening off the Methadone. Today I cut myself long bangs. So when I put my hair in a pony tail I hair that comes down and I can play with it. I like having hair to play with. I once read that when girl plays with her hair it means she wants to get laid. Its one of the non verbal signals like legs crossed towards the person, lightly touching the person, mimicking body language. I just like feeling soft things, and when my hair feels soft, I like to play with it. Even when there is nobody around to fuck me

Yesterday I asked my mom if I could have a fish bathroom, and she said yes. So the whole day she was on the Internet and looked for Fish themed bathroom sets. She found one with a shower curtain, waste basket, tooth brush holder, carpet, cup, and some other shit for only 51 bucks. Overstock.com baby. I know you could care less about my new bedroom, but I'm excited so I'm gonna blog about it. I got my sheets in via UPS and they are so fucking soft. My down comforter is a darker pink than I wanted, but what can you do. Its also is super soft, and perfect in every way except color. When I get my bed ready I'll never want to get out of bed. Too bad I won't be on Methadone anymore, and sleeping all the time anymore. Its going to be the most comfortable bed ever. I also have a down mattress pad to make my mattress softer.

I was just thinking about my journals. In the journal I'm writing in now I'm almost full. I have a picture of that guys cock in there. He sent me some via email, and I printed one out and put in my journal. I should put some little hearts around it and stuff. I should print another one out and hang it on the wall of my new bedroom. I don't know what I'm going to do with all my laminated pictures of Kurt Cobain and the song lyrics to Season's in the sun. I might buy a small canvas and make a whatchamacallit. I forget the name of those things. Damn it, that's going to bother me.

Tomorrow I go to Oshkosh and see that guy. I'm leaving straight from the Methadone clinic. He has Wednesday's off. I get to bring home my sex toys. I get to have real sex with that guy. I got to stop for the day. I've nothing left to write. So I'm going to spell check.


elizabeth said...


Anna Grace said...

I don't know what your talking? Dod I mention collage? I must re read this blog.