Recent Journal Entries

  • we broke up

    by alterEgo on September 18, 2014

    it's over now. the things that had to end. i hope he is ok. i hope he doesn't hurt himself. i still love him. it's very hard to break up with someone you still love. i don't know. im hurting. i feel like the pain will come in waves, and eventually come through like a tsunami. right now im swallowing the pain, taking it slowly. hasnt really hit me hard. probably will the more i think about it. during. all those times we were together. the two years we were together. nothing is as painful as this . i hate being human. i hate feeling so much pain. somebody save me.

    No Comments   Read more from alterEgo
  • High-school thoughts

    by Queen Anarchy on September 18, 2014

    This is about the sixth week of school, and iv'e just about have gotten the jist of things here. WAY too many kids in this school though, since the new freshman class came in (me) there have been over 1000 STUDENTS ALONE. If you have the late lunch... you should just forget about eating because they most likely have run out of food, or you get the scraps. PDA is allowed... though it shouldn't be able to... i'd rather not walk past some serious heavy petting when walking to math class. XD

    Swearing is also allowed, which is fine by me because i swear like a sailor. You're pretty much invisible unless you're gay, in a sport, or in a musical department. 

    And everyone has changed over summer... it's like the friends i used to have are just memories... Everyone is growing up too fast... Sex, Drugs, Beer... like seriously? We're just teenagers, you don't even have to think about that shit...

    In a summary, i think that this school year is going to be absolute torture.

    No Comments   Read more from Queen Anarchy
  • Butthurt Kids XD

    by Queen Anarchy on September 17, 2014

    Does anybody else hate it when you say "emo music" and some butthurt kid walks up and says "It's not called EMO it's called screamo, get your facts straight."?

    Smack them in the mouth and say "Actually there is a genre of music called EMO that's where the term comes from, mister sir lady. If you actually knew about or loved music as much as you say you do YOU'D KNOW THAT."

    No Comments   Read more from Queen Anarchy
  • September 17th - 00:13

    by JustSheen on September 16, 2014

    Starting my last module of the year today, and it has been off to a good start, surprisingly.

    I feel I've made one too many promises though. You see, I can't help it, people tend to pull on my heartstrings, they pull them out and hang them like bells in the night sky. This is too high for their hopes of me. 

    I can assure you that assurance has never been more of a stranger to me than now, who knows what the next six months will bring? 

    Somedays I feel as if I need an entirely new start, get rid of everyone in my life. Sometimes I think about how my life would be if I never met them in the first place. Would I be better off? At this point my brain start bubbling, it starts off slow, heating up and bubbling over the more I doubt my thoughts. The worst part about being a girl after the surprise emotional fits is the fact that we over think absolutly everything, which usually induces the random torrents of tears.   And yet I enjoy crying, you sort of let absolutely everything you don't want to hold onto seep into your tears, which is totally OK! I don't buy that bullshit, crying doesn't make you weak, it makes you real, it makes your emotions real and that's what I like to feel, REAL.   That's probally why I like to touch things, feeling their textures, their heat, rough walls, and the realisation of how scratchy my sweater is. The touch of kisses grazing my shoulder, jaggerd, digging hips and elbows, pin pricks and grass on my toes.    We say that seeing is beliveing, but feeling something, thouching it with your bare hands makes it a reality.  

    1 Comment   Read more from JustSheen
  • to the indolent town

    by CleanLaundry on September 16, 2014

    when the temperature climbes above oneohfive (which happens often here right before the crack of autumn), I crawl into the walk in refrigerator in the warehouse district. I quarantine myself. pull the door shut, turn off the lights press my cheek to the cold concrete. 

    I think about Dr. Seuss a lot. my man, T. Guyzel. he said you have to be odd to be #1. which changed my life in my wee youth because I was a pretty weird kid. not in the special snowflakey way. I suppose everyone is weird in childhood. I mean children are fundamentally weird. 

    it's the things I remember that are weird. the dead grass. the neighbor girl who left me notes in the communal dog kibble. the piano lesson in which I finally learned to read treble clef. the cat powers album my mom listened to when she was drunk. the recurring dream of that scene in jurassic park where the velociraptor overcomes the mechanics of a door handle. could he figure out a revolving door which has more of a learning curve? I didn't know. I worried. 

    now all I worry about is how much I relate to that "high all the time" song on the radio. I lay face down in cold storages and think of the face I'm supposed to be looking for in a week at school. I hope I find her. 

    No Comments   Read more from CleanLaundry
  • september 15.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 15, 2014

    I wanted to write something profound today. Something eloquent, where my words carved in and out, with dancing adjectives and rhythmic syllables. Where I could come back months later and see what I wrote on September 15 and say, "Damn. That day was weird, but I sure wrote artfully."

    But it is simple. I don't need to employ fancy literary techniques today. I have a paper-thin sadness. I get lonely sometimes, even though I'm pretty sure I've befriended half of the campus, and I can't set foot outside of my dormitory without running into someone I know. I miss simple things, like a gentle hand on the small of my back, or a sparkle in someone's eye when they see me coming their way.

    I'm not sure if I would call myself a romantic. 

    1 Comment   Read more from Fallen Leaves
  • baby don't hurt me no more

    by alterEgo on September 14, 2014

    so i got a friend stalking my journal now. i'm quite upset about because now i can't be myself. i showed him a screenshot of one of my post, with a funny comment attached to it. he went out of his way to google the name of the person who made the comment, and i hid my name. but he went on a mad hunt to find my journal. i'm  quite upset that i can't use this space anymore. I might have to make a new account, and journal.

    When i mention things that make me upset about his behaviour, he tells me "you know this about me"... it doesn't excuse you for poor behaviour.

    sometimes i feel like he has a crush on me, and if he is reading this. I hope he knows i don't see him as more than a friend. Kinda harsh, but i've told him in the past that i don't see him as more than a friend. I don't like the way he nags for my attention. 

    I can see it as how i can nag my boyfriend for attention. because a girl needs love right? he is not doing that right now. giving me the attention i want from him. he doesn't tell me he misses me or loves me, it' s a big thing for me.

    I sometimes work. i worked this weekend. it was tiring, and im pretty sure i gained a kilo or two. 

    everything is pretty sucky. i feel lonely. 

    No Comments   Read more from alterEgo
  • Kendrick Lamar: Kush and Corithians (His Pain).

    by jeromie701 on September 14, 2014

    Kendrick Lamar is my favorite rapper and I am going to explain my personal opinion on what I believe the song Kush and Corinthians (His Pain) means. I am a weed smoker. Its a substance I consume to help me understand things on a much deeper level which is what I believe Kendrick Lamar did, while reading Corinthians. “Do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived; neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God” (6:9). It speaks of people who do not deserve to be in heaven. Kendrick Lamar then raps about opening the bible and smoking weed. He hopes to be a better person and he is smoking and reading the bible which will most likely lead to him having deeper thoughts and seeing the path to a better life. Corinthians is the section he speaks of in the song because its the part that speaks of the people who do not deserve heaven. Kendrick feels terrible that he is living a bad life which is why he speaks of A Condomn, A Rollie, Pain, a Fat blunt and a Mac-11. The part that I'm not too sure about is the AK 47 part. I don't think that Kendrick is speaking of the actually weapon but the strain of weed. To support my answer I searched for the creation date of the AK 47 strain. It was created in 1992 and Kendrick was 4 or 5 at that time. in the Outro, BJ the Chicago kids tells his mother of his aspiration and she responds by saying "According to get everything you gotta risk everything". Then he goes on saying "So I'm smoking my kush reading Corithians" which means he wants to know what to risk and what not to risk to lead to him achieving his goal but also being able to go to heaven. In the hook, Kendrick is saying to live your life but live it in a positive way, since we do not know when it is our time to die. The "His Pain" part of the song's title which is bracketed is saying that while reading Corinthians and being high from weed, he was able to reflect on his life. Through his reflection, he realizes the reason for his pain and that pain was caused due to living a sinner's life. My favorite line is when he said that he lies on his back looking at the ceiling and it's so appealing to pray. This is where he admits that his conscience is telling him to find God but he refuses to do so.

    No Comments   Read more from jeromie701
  • Ain't nuthin but a deconstructed post-linguistic narrative yo -

    by NomadMonad on September 13, 2014

    Yo wuz all chillen wit my lizard wen I gits dis feelin like Im all: dang. Reverted to ghetto grammar again. POlice git all up in my face an I wuz like: the F#@K you lookin at mutha F#@KA ? Yu think I ain't speak the Quing's English ? Yu think I ain't a playuh hatuh? They all: What ? Are you talking to me? So I'm like: I'm a mash up you HEAD wit my explicit grammar-based linguistic approach. Sheet, maing. Y'all think you dealin wit a semantic dim-wit? Y'all think I aint neva study no socio-linguistic strategies in an appropriate cultural context for radicalizing the potentialities of post-modern narratives? Oratory tradition as urban synthesis toward socioeconomic hetroglossia ?  Got my heteroglossic narrative goin ON, homie. My narrative narrated UGLY on yo MAMA. That's right.
    Urban tradition as post-colonial subversion of linguistic hegemony - now git that left leg up on the table and move your grammar monitor. Like that - oooh yeah

    footnote your doctoral dissertation on THAT - suckaz... [MLA citation style please]

    No Comments   Read more from NomadMonad
  • Newbie

    by JustSheen on September 12, 2014

    So I joined this site ages ago, and only recently have I mustered up the courage to write anything.

    I'm not gifted in anyway when it comes to writing or composing words in such a sequence that it captivates an audience, barring that I do not intend to  share a life altering story or experience which has come my way.

    No, this is entirely just me getting away, no one I personally know comes to this site, and that's why I feel like I'm here. Talking to a stranger, or just talking to no one, but still being able to find words to tell, just the universe in general helps.

    Often having too many thoughts constantly weighs down your mind tremendously, often weighing down your body too, and your heart.

    On occassion I feel so heavy, melt through the floor I walk on, like lard, black, heavy and dripping. Constantly inconsistant, and yet that is what makes us alive. New emotion always. WHo cares if you aren't emotionally stable? You're probably the most alive out of all of us, recognising happiness when its due, knowing saddness when it's needed.

    This is what we as humans are made up of, inconsistancy. If we knew exactly how to react accordinly always, no mistakes, would that be any sort of life at all? 

    Personally I enjoy making mistakes, cause mistakes are real. You can feel them and see them, they affect you, whether it's with good reason or not, they're there and you know it, and it's up to you to alter them if they need altering.

    I am a mistake (take this in a positive manner), - quick background, I am studing Visual Communications, it's my first year and although I am good at it, I'm not competative (well barely) and I recentely realised that this is the path which I wasn't meant to take. Barring that I am a fairly happy person, just dealing with life as a teen and what it throws at me.

    So as I was saying, I am a mistake, which is genrally a good thing. In the theroy of Marx (Marxism) and the origins of it, although it is a social conflict which touches on the basis of dialect, which is the ideology behind history and whether or not it exists, so I'm not going to rant on about some bullshit and turn this into a Visual Culture lecture, but basically t touches on the fact that ideologies are forever evolving, as is time and history. Should one aspect of the ideology contradict itself they re-do or touch up the entire thought to constantly improve it.

    This is then how I feel about mistakes. Mistakes are generated from an idea, which is then generated into an intention and then ofcourse action and ultimately a mistake, but us as humanity can't live with mistakes so we go through the entire process againg, keeping the good parts and rectifying our mistakes.

    So this then leads me to believe that I am a mistake, not in the general sense that I am wrong or not meant to be, but rather in the sense of consistant rectification, and ever bettering myself, through making and understanding mistakes.

    Now how do I conclude this thing without making it seem like I'm trying too hard? 

    2 Comments   Read more from JustSheen
  • september 12th.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 12, 2014

    sometimes i feel like i will burst through my rib cage. sometimes i feel like i can't contain all my love for the world, for every ragged stranger i pass by, for every flighty bird, and every caustic crack in the concrete on the sidewalks. i want to tell my friends that they mean the world to me, i want to call my mom and tell her i love her, i want to send emails to old teachers to tell them how i'm doing. i feel like all of the love i have is too much to keep to myself, and i have so much energy and so much passion that my excitement for life greatly exceeds my capacity to whittle my character into sets of traits like subtlety, or humility, or quietness.

    and sometimes i feel like i will burst through my rib cage. like the insides of me are aching so much that they want nothing more but to be freed. i feel like the poisons inside of me need to touch the free air to leach out their toxins, to bleed on the haggard sidewalks that are trampled on by careless, directionless nobodies & shit on by the birds that fly overhead. i feel like the emptiness inside of me is expanding, and is bound to escape and infect everything around me. blanket it. put the world to sleep.

    right now, i want to scoop of the sadness of others. i want to hold them in the palm of my hand and keep them safe. or maybe, this time, i want someone to hold me and keep me safe. my heart hurts, and i'm not sure if it is from love or from emptiness today.

    2 Comments   Read more from Fallen Leaves
  • Eek

    by TinkerTally on September 11, 2014

    Okay. Note to self, never post what kind of music you're into when you are 13 years old. 


    Anyways! I have returned!


    No Comments   Read more from TinkerTally
  • september 7th.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 09, 2014

    I've always felt like dreams are meaningful, insightful glimpses into the corners of our scared little minds. Of course, not all dreams are brilliant reflections of our greatest desires or biggest fears (for I simply can't believe that my occasional dreams of visual jibberish mean much at all). Perhaps I accepted dreams as insightful moments because I was raised in a Christian home, where everyone got to talk to God and understand the meaning of their lives in their dreams.

    I usually dream vividly, and am able to remember my dreams in elaborate detail. Some dreams are complete stories that I am compelled to write down someday. (Some samples include: a romance during WWII, a murder mystery in which an elderly woman admits to killing her husband in her 20s because she caught him having a gay affair, to name a few.) I remember having a recurring dream as a child of being caught in a maze made of red bricks, fearing the monster that was tracking me down (it turns out, the nightmare came from playing too much Wolfenstein with my brother).

    I can't watch horror movies because the images scream at me when I sleep, and I wake up in a cold sweat and fearfully distract myself until I can handle the darkness again. I kept dreaming of a possessed woman, tied to a chair, vomiting blood with a bag over her head.

    In the spring, I was supposed to move in with some girls I knew from residence. I dreamed that they were showing me the apartment, and I refused to go into one bedroom because I had a bad feeling. There was a rattle from the trapdoor leading to the basement, and I fearfully prayed in complete fear. Then a voice from below demanded, "You shall not speak of God in my presence." Later on, we found out that the previous tenant was a madwoman who brought home men, killed them, had sex with them, and then put the bodies under her floorboards.

    I didn't dream all summer.

    I don't know what this means. I feel like I've read somewhere that when you're depressed, your sleeping patterns change. Maybe I stopped dreaming because I partied too much. Or slept in too late. Or went to bed at 6am. 

    Every once in a while, I will dream about Lance. There's usually some miraculous scenario where he realizes he loved me all along. Sometimes I dream about seeing him with other girls. One time I dreamed he died.

    Last week, as I was dealing with the new of my friend's suicide, I had troubles sleeping. When I was at home, my sister and I had to share a bed because her mattress is in her new apartment. I was glad to have her for company because I kept having nightmares and it was nice to wake up and not be alone. Even if she was still sleeping, at least someone was there.

    I know more about my friend's death now. I want to know the details because it helps me mourn in a sick way. Then I can picture everything and try to understand, instead of having shadowy ideas of what his last days were like. As it turns out, he and his mother were living with his sisters while his mother's new house was being built. And as it turns out, he took my advice and was planning on moving to another city and to another university ("You just need to find your people," I had told him, "and once you have them, then everything will feel okay"). And as it turns out, he hung himself somewhere in his sister's house, and she found him and had to cut him down.

    I kept dreaming of his lifeless body being a dead weight as the rope separated. I kept dreaming of his legs haphazardly being draped over the back of a couch. I keep picturing his sister having to catch him so his body wouldn't hit the ground.

    I haven't thought much about it much, even though he smiles at me quietly from his funeral card every day. I don't know if I'm handling it extremely well, accepting that there is nothing I can do about the situation and so little I could have done, or if I am handling everything terribly and if I'm going to have a breakdown in three months. Or three years. I'm pretty sure I saved some silly notes he wrote me once. I don't know where they are, but one day I'm going to be cleaning out my childhood room and I'm going to find those messages.

    It's just weird to think that he doesn't really exist anymore. That if you saw a picture of my friend, you could never find the body and smile to match it. Because somebody had to cut him down from his hanging, and somebody had to call 9/11, and somebody had to decide whether to bury him or to cremate him, and somebody had to put the naked body of a compassionate and gentle 19 year old boy into the cremation chamber. Somebody had to put the powdered remains of my friend into an urn.

    I feel sad, but distantly so.

    Dear reader, please don't kill yourself. The world loves you and wants you to smile when your favourite song comes on. The world wants you to laugh at bad jokes and have a favourite friend on "Friends" and eat cold pizza in the morning after a night out drinking. The world wants you to outgrow your old pair of shoes. The world wants you to get old enough to see your mom's laugh lines grow deeper.

    2 Comments   Read more from Fallen Leaves
  • Hello (warning: ramble/ rant)

    by alterEgo on September 08, 2014

    I want to say so much, but when it actually comes to typing I am stuck. Funny that. I will try to type like a reasonable person. 

    So some backstory on my life at the moment. 22, unemployed for 9 months, in a long distance relationship of almost 2 years.

    I've been on the website for more than 4 years now, it's nice to see some familar faces also new friendly ones. I would hope this website becomes more chatty, but then again I'm not one to chat, as I'm afraid of what people think of me, and if someone's starts hating on my comment, it makes me really upset. I guess it's a fear, though no one has really done that to me. Can't explain it, Anxiety? Maybe?.

    This year i want to be more happier, happier with myself, happier that I lost 11 kgs and never patted myself for it. Still see myself as how i think others see me, judging every imperfection on my skin, and calling myself ugly, (because i am covered in hedious scab scars). when i should be saying not perfect.

    Ramble ramble. At the point in time, i'm ok, but thinking things over. The reasons why my boyfriend and I don't get along is because of my personal clingy issues, and his lack of effort towards communicating with me. I'm thinking of moving to where he lives in Melbourne, but I don't know if that would be a good idea. Pros would be I get to see him often, stablising our relationship, it's a nice place to live, a fresh start, away from family life which sometimes depresses me. Cons are, that I will be lonely, I have no source of income besides benefits, living in melbourne is expensive, especially by yourself and you know no one.

    Only reason I want to go there is for him, but I am so close to my family I will be heartbroken if I move, plus my mum is not healthy (2nd stroke) so who know when that will happen again, and I'm afraid she'll become worse than how she is right now. I have a fear that I will lose my parents, and regret not spending time with them. So many fears, fearing things I should not be scared of. 

    The things between us (me and him) make me second guess our relationship. He doesn't want to see me, even if i offer up to come see him this month. Flights are about $100 more or less. He is working as well which makes it hard for me to see him because sometimes he will work night shift or dayshift, and which ever day they will call him, and he works of a monthly roster, that he hasn't shared with me. It's just so difficult, he doesn't want to talk everyday whereas i do, i haven't heard his voice in 3days. and he doesn't care to talk, because hearing me, knowing i exist breaks his heart because i am not actually with him. I asked several friends and they said there was nothing much left, but i still believe that is something there for us. I still love him. 

    I also said that he bragged, and he told me that I nag too much, and make noises when i want attention. ooh that hurt, because i now think it's true. I am just a big attention seeker, loathe myself :(

    this sounds like one of those relationships that should just end, but it's very hard. as he is my first. first boyfriend, first kiss, first time having sex. it seems like a lot to throw away. I feel pretty stupid, but I am those things to him too. we would be throwing away our relationship if we gave up. anyone wanting to try a ldr should be aware of how hard it is, there is a chance that one person would want to give in, because the distance is too much. 

    I am comfortable with the way things are, seeing each other every three months, for three days is ok for me, as long as I get to talk to him everyday. But he is not ok with it, because he needs me to actually be there, and to hug him and hold him, and to do stuff together. I would really love that too. He is very sad right now, and distancing himself from me. Kinda hurts. I feel much better writing this all down.

    Im making him a care package, dont know when to send it, because he is not being nice to me right now, but i still care about him, and want to cheer him up.

    I hope you all have a nice night.

    4 Comments   Read more from alterEgo
  • sometimes.

    by Fallen Leaves on September 07, 2014

    i am already in way over my head. school started on wednesday. i have regular hours at my job now and work pretty much every week night. i have hours of reading to do each day. i have sports coming up - hockey, volleyball, and dodgeball - and no time to play them. i'm starting to get panicky. there was a time when i would have been able to handle all of these things at once without blinking an eye, but that was back in high school when my only social life was seeing my boyfriend. 'busy' was a highly desired distraction from everything that made me sad.

    i just don't know

    1 Comment   Read more from Fallen Leaves
  • Another Final Elegy

    by NomadMonad on September 06, 2014 Sweep this under your PC rug: Talk like a thug
    Dress like a thug
    Act like a thug
    Steal like a thug
    Live like a thug
    Die like a thug. (Good riddance to poor parenting.)

    No Comments   Read more from NomadMonad
  • stay free, ponyboy

    by RosesAtSunset on September 03, 2014

    The slow blaze, the temporary glory
    Of the fiery death of the golden days

    Nothing gold can stay
    Nothing can stay 

    Crackling papery embers rustle under callous feet
    When the warm green leaves melt into the cold red frays

    Nothing green can stay
    Nothing can stay

    Soft nooses wrapped around weak necks
    As the summer suns approach the winter greys

    But nothing grey can stay
    Because nothing can stay

    No Comments   Read more from RosesAtSunset
  • so this is heartache

    by alterEgo on August 31, 2014

    why wont you let me leave

    you're so cruel to me, more cruel than the last one

    if you want to end it, please end it now, so i can move on, and look for someone who actually cares.

    I want to kill myself, but you're not worth killing myself for. i want to avoid you. i want to hate you and not talk to you. 

    goodbye boyfriend, goodbye heartless, good bye blind to others feelings. i don't believe were meant to be. you fail to communicate. by not saying things that bothered you, and telling me it all one go, we aren't even together.

    you keep sending me one worded responses, and send me to a place were i cry all the time. i don;t even want to tell you why im feeling terrible. you are not good to me, or are you. im just insane now. im going to try and avoid everyone, because everything is making me upset. loose screw.

    if i die, im happy. maybe he will care.

    3 Comments   Read more from alterEgo
  • august 25.

    by Fallen Leaves on August 26, 2014

    I got news today that one of my best friends from home committed suicide. He and I were very close at the beginning of high school, had a bit of a feud, and reconvened after graduation. He apologized and told me I was right all along.

    Every now and then, we would text or FaceTime. Months could go by but I always knew I could pick up the phone and call him, and it wouldn't seem like any time had gone by. When I was back in my home province for camp, I asked if I could stay with him in the city. He was out at his dad's, so I found somewhere else to rest my head. The last time I remember talking, he was freaking out that he didn't have a place to call home. That he had moved around too much and now he didn't know where he belonged. "I felt that way too," I told him, "but I found my friends and it clicked. It took a while but eventually, I found my home."

    When I got the news I started crying my eyes out. I texted Aidan in my moments of complete shock. "Oh shit, are you okay, I can get off work as soon as I can," he said.

    I might fly home for the funeral. I need to be able to deal with this. But it would be so easy for me to remain 1000km away and never have to face the fact that someone I could talk on the phone with for four hours straight, someone I once called my closest friend, someone I dreamed would kiss me someday, someone I tried to convince to move to my city a month ago, has killed himself. That he felt so hopeless and so trapped that he had to end his own life.  That he had to quit. 

    My heart hurts and nobody in this place knows the friend that I just lost. 

    I look back at old pictures of us in our high school prime and I see those photos and can't believe that boy would grow up commit suicide.

    1 Comment   Read more from Fallen Leaves
  • and then it clicked.

    by Fallen Leaves on August 24, 2014

    Wednesday morning, my friend texted me. He's close friends with Lance, but was really kind and helpful to me in the months following the breakup between Lance and myslef. The friend texted me because he had just hung out with Lance. "It's done, Fallen," he said. "He's never coming back."

    I hugged my knees and cried.

    Thursday and Friday, I spent time with Aiden. He and I went out for the first time on Monday and ended up talking for hours. On Thursday, we went longboarding and got coffee. We got caught in the rain. We watched a Pixar movie and showed each other pictures of our awkward youth. On Friday, we just spent time laughing and talking. We laid out in his hammock.

    "I have so much fun doing nothing with you," he said. An air of surprise. 

    A dry laugh. "What, do you usually feel compelled to entertain your women?"

    More surprise, but he's regaining confidence. "Usually. I'm the man with the plan."

    He smiles when I try to bite his lip.

    No Comments   Read more from Fallen Leaves
Back to top