Virgin-boy is still here, dark hair and innocent smile and he insists that no one wants him. *wry grin* I'm a sucker for that line, yes. Always have been, always will be.

I'm in here, antisocial typer, writing because it's either keep writing, go upstairs and masturbate, or... yeah. I don't think Deb would appreciate me pouncing a houseguest.

All damned night.

I tossed and turned, didn't even get out of bed until nearly 5:00, although I woke up twice - once when my mom showed up at 12:30 or so to take me to the doctor, and once at 2-ish, at which point I stayed awake. Masturbated. Thought. Remembered there was someone downstairs I didn't want to interact with. He's really a sweet boy.

Didn't go to the doctor today; to the naturopath, that is. Allergy testing. Couldn't get up, couldn't get past the pounding rush in my head and the horrible fear that if I so much as got out of bed, something disasterous would happen. Something so aweful I don't want to think about it, which is good, since I've no f'ing clue what it might be. *shrugs*

Hints and fragments and impossible improbable warnings. Nothing's really going to happen.

I'm talking with Neil and Daris right now, sitting online while "Bloodsport" is playing, drinking a double-white-russian (homemade) and wondering whether I am brave enough to go back out to the family room.

I don't think I am.

See, it's not that I think it would be all that horrible, were I to fuck him... it's just that... ehh.

It wouldn't be right.

I don't want to see myself through his eyes, not through anyone's eyes, not right now. I don't trust myself to make it good enough for him, right now. I need a playtoy, a partner, someone I can just BE with... not someone I'd end up feeling responsible for.

Dammit.

...love is just a bloodsport... what does that make sex?

Scott would be so proud - I'm having a moral dilemma over whether or not to fuck someone. Although admittedly, the reasons aren't the ones I think he would prefer.

I'm half-tempted to hand the boy the address to this journal, so that at some point he can see... but I know that too is a Very Bad Plan. Part of me is hoping he walks in and asks what I'm up to.

Most of me doesn't care.

Sieia-To... y'know what's weird? She won't answer to that name any more. She... won't. I guess I can understand her reasons; they're much the same reasons I used when I started going by Jax. I think she's getting over the past and living in the present now, and I'm not actually sure if that's good or not, but at least it seems like progress. She's stopped being startled by things like electric lights. Stopped caring that things have changed, times have changed.

Started... being her.

Being ME, too.

I don't particularly want her to be me, y'see.

I miss Rhett.

I think I'm loosing it. I know, I know, if you worry about going insane you likely won't, all that crap - and it is crap - is on repeat in my head. It's not helping, though. I...

...I'm out of Oxycodone.

I'm gonna be out of valium soon.

And every time I'm sober, it's... gods. It's all WRONG. Everything hurts, everything is terrifying, everything seems out-of-place and out-of-phase, voices from nowhere, music that I know isn't really playing, words that no one is actually speaking, and yet I'm hearing it all. Over and over, drowning in sound...

...is it any wonder I cling to the 'net, hiding out here? At least here I don't answer questions that it turns out no one asked out loud, I don't accidentally get in conversations with myself.

I feel like I'm letting my boys down. I'm not... I'm not being what they need, WHO they need. I'm tempted to see about institutionalizing myself, except then I KNOW I'd go nuts, shut away from everyone and everything, unable to be online, unable to be with my friends, unable to ever see my boys. I don't think I could cope with that.

I don't think I NEED that.

I just... wonder... sometimes. If maybe I am crazy. If maybe I'd be better off locked away, where I can't hurt anyone.

Drink.

Drug.

Think.

Cry.

Fuck.

Sleep.

Repeat until you die.

There's gotta be more than this to life. I know it gets worse around this time of the month (started on Monday, yes), I know it passes, I know life ISN'T this horrid thing it feels like. I know it. I know it. I know it.

And yet it still feels like I'm living in an emotional garbage dump. Even the air feels... slimy, ash-filled, dusty, poisoned with a thousand years of hate and lust and violence.

I'm worried about Snowtygrrr now. He's disappeared - his friends are looking for him. No one's heard from him. No one's seen him. No one knows what happened. He just... vanished.

See, this is another reason not to trust people. Even if the people themselves turn out to be trustworthy... the rest of the world is still fighting, still hurting, still making them break apart, making everything hurt. I hate this f'ing world.

Daris is suggesting things involving virgin-boy... and yeah. It's tempting. Flirt. Focus. Take him. Claim him. Have him. Use him. But I'm trying NOT to, can't people see that? I don't want to fuck over another person. I do it enough already.

"Feuer Frei" by Rammstein. It's a song from XXX, yes. Kickass song. Plays during the opening scene. I so want to go see that flick... but I'm not gonna, can't make it, not now, not here... I keep waiting, keep wanting. Loud music. Fast cars. People who... HAVE... what they want and need. I want to be there. Be them. Not me.

Want to bring my boys with me, up out of this half-gutter, half-redneck miniverse, up into wealth and power and comfort. I want to take them with me and ride the universe, see it all, do it all, everything. I want to go see bands. I want to go clubbing in London. I want to wear leather and silk. I want to taste a stranger's tears and know he is going to die while I watch. I want to watch a woman destroy herself and smile because for once, I'm not just looking in a mirror. I want to watch the flames rise as a building burns. I want to watch the road fly by. I want it all.

Moderation. Self-control. Fuck that. I want to be able to change lives.

I want to be able to take care of those I care about. Protect them. Keep them safe, healthy, fed, clothed, amused. Give them a roof over their heads, fast cars, slick outfits, cell phones, and late-night sessions that they don't really talk about, but couldn't live without and can barely live with.

I want it all.

Maybe I will take him, after all.

Claim him... and never fuck him. Never. Keep him wanting, waiting, helpless. Hopeless. Begging. Needing. Never used. Never fucked. Always on edge, desperate.

That might be... fun.

Click click boom.

Fun. Yes.

I can... do... that.

Really.

So innocent... so tempting...

...and she's such a fool for not wanting him...

...if she won't take him, I will.

Let's get this party started.