A Collection of Spectacles

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My archetype kills me, every single time. He says I have to pursue it though, in order to feel in sync with the universe (or something weird and grandiose like that). “I don’t know what to do when my love life falls apart, which is every other week now. I am alone, for various reasons (some of which are probably my fault) because I am loud, honest, and logical.” Every woman probably says this after a breakup. I have to do a session around one today. Simple, face sitting, foot worship. He says, “Slap me. Spit on me. Treat me like your bitch.” They’re all the same needy, hungry person. I have to shave for it, which is annoying me. I left my shaving cream at my re-exed former lover’s house. I have his keys, but his roommates are probably back in town.

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It’s been hard lately. Work has been difficult to find. Parents are still acting like parents. It’s hard to do “under the table” work and have a boyfriend because he doesn’t like what I do. Well, independent sessions, mainly. To some degree, I agree. It’s safer to work out of a house or dungeon, but I know a reputable place that got busted recently and I’d rather get into other shady shit than head to jail. He thinks I’m better than doing this type of work, but I don’t see anything wrong with being smart and using yourself in order to get what you want. Intelligence today doesn’t automatically lead to a related job, anyway. I have to be smart to do what I do, to listen to each body as it sways, to hurt and strain, but not mangle.

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