A Collection of Spectacles

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I’m hoping that I haven’t messed up, because that would be the most embarrassing, painful thing ever.

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I am going to get photos taken today. Work is sometimes fun and sometimes grueling, but It is like any other job, and no one tried to save me when I was hating myself while I folded clothes all day. It is better than most menial jobs, because I don’t have to pretend that I like you. Going to Connecticut for a while tonight.

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Went over to the ex’s to pick up some stuff. We had a good time, drank, smoked, and watched movies. We went out to eat and suddenly I felt like I was too drunk at 3 in the afternoon. Soon enough, I’m yelling at him on the L train platform about how much I hate him.

Then, I go home and furiously masturbate. What the fuck am I doing?

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I’m always meeting someone, and it has happened again. We kissed in front of Union Square. I am so scared. I want to be loved and liked and I am terribly afraid of being left alone, even though the sting usually subsides eventually. He said he’s down to try kinky things, which is exciting. I’ve always had to hold the two realms far apart. _____ texted me which was nice because we had not spoken in a while and it is good to know that we will always love each other. At the heart of it all, I am a whore. I do not say this to be shameful or because I am ashamed. Well, maybe that is partially a lie. I am ashamed sometimes of what I am doing because of what other people will think, which is totally reasonable. I will run far away from anyone at this point who tries to convince me that they don’t care about what anyone in the world thinks, not even their best friend or their family. I am enjoying myself though, and money truly seems to soothe some of my pains. Society today is so odd. I’m spending my work money on philosophy books and preparing for student loans. I thought the other day about how I used to think love was this one time magical thing, that we were meant to fall hard for one or two at most. Now, I think it is just a feeling we float in and out of. I am always stuck between opposite ideals. I have a housewife’s aspirations but a harlot’s mindset. How can I be loved and settle down when I put a catheter in an old man’s urethra the other day? This morning I danced to Billie Holiday around the room, swirling and gyrating. He put his face close to my panties and whiffed deeply, but it’s okay because I never have sex with them. And if I never fall in love again, that’s soon enough for me/I’m gonna lock my heart and throw away the key. The words are running through my ears, but I keep thinking about what time it is and how I need to fill my pockets. It’s okay because I never have sex, at least, but I’m doing all these other things and surely this is still tip toeing a line. They always ask how it went and I can’t say anything but, “fine.”

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Work is awesome. I will say this every time I have a good week, and curse it every time I have a bad one. My slave brought me a computer along with other nice things. I want to save up so that I can do the things in life that I have always wanted to. What I’m doing is frowned upon, but who cares? There’s always a boy waiting around the corner for me. I have to see my old love tonight, and I’m not looking forward to it. I don’t want my stuff. I just want to run far away from it all. Hopefully alcohol won’t make me too promiscuous or angry. I hope when he sleeps in his bed he is sorry, though I doubt he feels anything.

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