My best friend is having a mental breakdown and we don’t know what to do. He said during a moment of clarity that he didn’t want to get better and have to apologize to everyone, and that the idea of facing such tremendous embarrassment was not as bad as death. Growing up surely makes things more interesting, but it never seems to get less tragic.
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I’ve been asking myself lately to re-evaluate the kinds of people I let into my life. I don’t want to be bothered by unnecessary stress or put down or berated. This is hard at times because I have spent too long fetishizing power dynamics. At this point I get off most to being forced to feel a mixture of desire and pain, or knowing that someone would do anything to please me. There’s nothing sweeter than hearing how much I’m desired while I get fucked, but my masochistic tendencies bubble up from time to time.
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Last week was filled with wet dreams, visions of him cumming in and on me everywhere. I like to be brought close to tears as I near sex-death. I want to feel every thrust until my voice is hoarse.
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