Can't exist right now.

I'm at Con, yes, hello, sorry for the lack of updates lately. Busy, rushed, drowning in too much - too much. There are deep wounds on my back, my shoulders, my throat. Ink covering me. Overheating and undernourished and every time I try to eat anything I hear this nagging hurtful voice.

...see how that works for you...

I'm tired of throwing up but I can't seem to stop eating and I can't keep it down. Don't want food. Don't want solid food. Caffeine, sugar water, blood... gods, little cat, reading your latest slip sideways into the darkness hs left me hungrier than ever, I miss you.

Need.

Craving.

Bittersweet tears and no one to explain them to. Running. I'm hiding here, hiding on a computer, fingers dancing lightning-quick over keys, through thoughts, my body still tense. I can't get away from my hungers and I won't turn them off. I won't cut her out of my head again.

Not. Never. She exists and that's all there is to it.

Drowning in this need for red sweet fluid dreamdancing, here I am, come get me, come take me, come find me.

Open. Waiting.

There's a small black nylon collar tucked into my bag, a leash and a small-boy collar too, yes, but they are incidental compared to that one thing. Wanting.

Needing.

Bitter, this desire that I can't show, won't show, he is gone and she is sobbing. Wounds I can't show off. Damage I can't be proud of. I want to be the one to smile and look up, I want to be graceful held, but so afraid, here, so afraid that if that side of me slips out he'll simply shove it away nd then I'll tumble.

Crowds.

Noise.

Need.

I've been sober since I got here. Kill me now?