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@ignatiuswrath-blog
After being committed to a hospital, I am now on drugs that prevent my suicide. Unfortunately, they increase my desire to commit homicide. He prescribed drugs for that too, which my insurance will not cover. He has yet to fix it.
Now that I think about it, I've enjoyed people sleeping for quite awhile. My ex had this habit of falling asleep while touching me. I really found it to be rude, considering that I never fell asleep on her. The first twenty times or so, I was just offended. One night, I decided I was not going to bed frustrated. I took her hand and used her to please myself while she was sleeping. It was one of the best orgasms I've had. When I was done, I just tossed her limp arm back on her side and rolled over.
I really enjoy watching my roommate sleep. His body is so limp, his breathing so slow. Sometimes I hold his hand for a bit, rub his back, pet his hair. He really is attractive. If it weren't for the occasional snore, he'd pass as a corpse. Well, a fresh one. He's always cool to the touch, but always too warm to be really dead.
I am unfortunate enough to work with my ex girlfriend. It's a job that I got her. I see her about every other day. On some level, I know she just changed. But that still doesn't shake the feeling that I need to kill her body. I need to kill the thing that wears her face. I want to believe so badly that it isn't her in that body. I want to believe she was kicked from it. This creature isn't her. But it is. And maybe I'd even be okay with it if I didn't forget she turned into a total cunt. Let me tell you, it's getting really old walking through a store and noticing something and thinking to myself "I bet she would love that. I'll get it for her...oh wait." If my brain could just keep things straight, maybe I wouldn't feel the need to remove her face with a potato peeler.
I categorize people into eleven levels.
It's based on how much I like or dislike you. Level 1- I would die to save you, I would murder for you, I would go to jail for twenty plus years for you, you may use my car, I would attempt to bail you out of jail, I will bare pieces of my soul to you, I will drive ungodly distances to see you. Level 2- You may crash at my house for a period of under three weeks, I will lend you small amounts of money, I will pick you up from the airport, I will visit you in the hospital. Level 3- I will drive over twenty minutes to visit you, you may attend my house parties, I will passionately tell people off for you, I will prank you for shits and giggles, I will affectionately call you mean things. Level 4- I will chat with you every so often, I read your Facebook posts, I may occasionally offer you a piece of candy, I will actively sit with you at lunch. Level 5- I will make polite conversation with you for five to ten minutes, and we may share a laugh together. Level 6- I don't like you, but I do not dislike you. I will make polite small talk if you engage me. Level 7- You give me bad vibes, there is something small that irritates me, I will have short small talk with you. Level 8- I will actively try to end our interactions much sooner, I have "Bitch Eating Crackers" feels for you, I have unfollowed your Facebook posts, I will say mean things in a tone where you think I am joking but I totally mean it. Level 9- We are not friends on facebook and never will be, I have zero trust in you, if I get an opportunity to minorly fuck you over I probably will, you are not allowed in my house, if I see you I will probably find an excuse to flash my knife. Level 10- I am just waiting for a chance to punch you in your face, I will actively fuck you over every chance I get, I may shit on your doorstep or slash your tires, I may be super sweet to you in an effort to befriend you before fucking your life up. Level 11- If I don't murder you in some sadistic way first, I will actively find out every fear that you have and exploit that knowledge to psychologically rape you for the rest of your pathetic existence.
My new jacket.
An open letter to my exes:
Go fuck yourselves.
Just a quick notice.
I most definitely use this site for porn, but I generally do not post porn. I have liked a few pornographic posts. While I definitely welcome all my new followers with very suggestive usernames, if you came for porn you will be disappointed.
As I've mentioned before, my friends and I were named after the four horseman. As I have predicted, Death is gone. She packed her belongings and left while I was at work, having been smuggled out by Famine, who is threatening to take me to court over something stupid. Death ended our almost four year relationship over a phone call. Instead of missing her, I more miss the idea of her, and the money she contributed. I now live only with Pestilence, who has thankfully remained by my side. We refuse to fall. We are barely scraping by, but we are surviving and that is what matters right now. I've discovered that in my newfound freedom, my sex drive has increased to a level where I can do nothing to satisfy it. This actually might work for me. The past few weeks, I have discovered that I can sell myself for far higher than I imagined. Prostitution will most likely pay my rent when it gets really tough. In addition to that, it seems strangers are more than willing to support my alcohol habit in exchange for sex that I wanted anyway. On Thursday, I intend to meet with someone who is quite eager to be my household servant, in exchange for nothing. He sees working for me as a privilege. I will make this work, or I will die trying. I will not give her the satisfaction of watching me fail.
I had sex with a .357 revolver to my head tonight.
I drew the dark mark on my arm during lunch break.
I honestly did not expect this many followers. Hello. Things are a bit busy right now. I am doing some shady things for money and dealing with a few situations at home. I am considering burning my house down and starting over.
My normally docile snake bit me last night. She actually drew blood, which has never happened before. It wasn't painful, but it was rather surprising.
I snuck into my old highschool a couple days ago. All I had to do was put on my old uniform and students let me right in. They did not ask for identification or anything. While I was not there for malicious purposes, it did strike me that if I wanted to hurt people, it would be ridiculously easy.
