I've been recently accused of having gone mad with power.
I've been thinking about the enormous void inside me that I've been
trying to fill with virtual attention.

Maybe it's that I lost my umbrella again
(I really just need to get more than 1 umbrella),
maybe it's the rain that makes me want to cry too.

I'm taking a half day today and will be wandering the rainy gloomy streets of the City aimlessly.
Form of: A Molecule!

Or maybe just crawl home, watch a movie at the local theatre.
Maybe something only I, and not Hugo or anyone else I know, wants to watch.

Self loathing cycle beginning again. I'm tired of this.
I'm sure everyone else is too. Don't read me anymore.
Maybe I should just shut up and quit whining.

Full of desperation and hostility today.
The kind of day that makes me want to go up to Twin Peaks and just howl like a banshee into the wind.

When did I turn into such a bargain girl?
To Hugo, I am a bargain.
Because I allow myself to be.
The energy he expends on maintaining and possessing me is lesser than my worth.
To my lover, I am also a bargain.
Young piece of ass he gets to tap, without the hassles of damage control or any other maintenance.
Even to my potential Master, I am nothing but an object.

I'm a bargain! I'm slashing prices all over the place!
Fuck me! Use me! You don't even have to pay for my dinner!
I'm giving it all up for free.
Then send me home and forget about me!
It's all good!

No. It's not all good.

I did it to myself. I did it to myself. I have only myself to blame.
For all of it. For making my life a big fat mess.

Ugh.

Is it time for therapy?

T: So what is it today? How are you feeling?
DJ: Sad. Depressed. Lonely. Desperate. Hostile. Wretched.
T: That's a lot of negativity to be carrying around. Is there anything you can do to uplift your spirits?
DJ: I don't know. Probably. Kill you for one.

Okay, maybe not therapy today.

I need a pacifier.
I need love.
I need love.
I need some love.
I need some cuddle.
I need a hug.
I need to cum.
I need a little love.
I need a lot of attention.
I need some adoration.
I'm a sucking vortex of need.
Inconsolable and wretched.
Unlovable and undesirable.
Monstrous.

If this were indeed a movie and I were to write the next scene in which
my day, my life would be changed in the next hour,
I would walk outside and bump into a wonderful man who would take
one look at me and silently take my hand, lead me away
to a room where he would brew a strong pot of genmai bancha,
take off my clothes and hand me a silk charmeuse robe and slippers to wear,
burn some nag champa incense, play music for me to sing along to,
jazz and blues standards, some dinah washington, or etta james, or some jobim maybe,
for me to sing along to, hand me the new issue of Shuz magazine,
massage my shoulders and neck, then take out a hairbrush to brush my hair.
Kissing me softly until the tears come flowing out, until I succumb.

Pushing the robe back over my shoulders until I am naked.
Carrying me to a bed to cradle me, kiss me.

Fuck it. This sounds like a goddamm romance novel.
I've fucked up. I don't deserve anything.