Obliterate It

messy and moody

I am not a slut. I cannot give my body away so easily, and no shame to women with body counts over mine, but to think about the idea that even one person has invaded me like that and I’m never speaking to them again is horrifying to me. I’ve never been treated like a princess. I’ve never been told that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world. Do I deserve that? Do I want that? I don’t want to have to handle it all myself for the rest of my life, should I really have to?

I tried to get rid of my Serbian man, I really did; I told him something that I thought would absolutely repulse him, but to no avail; he comes back, and I don’t want to break his heart. I don’t want to tell him that I don’t want to come and see him anymore, but what else am I supposed to do? I made my choice, and I have to stick to it. I wanted this so bad. I wanted Serbia so bad, and now he’s telling me things that I prayed for him to tell me weeks ago, but now I don’t want it. It’s too much now; there’s something else that I want, and I’ve moved on. In the back of my mind, I knew I was never going to see him because why would I spend $1000 to go see you, just to have sex with you for the summer and then never see you again? You don’t want to marry me, you don’t want me to have your kids. You don’t want a life with me. I don’t want a life with you. So that should be the end of it.

I made a pros and cons list the other day, and I mean, I already knew what my decision was going to be when I started making the list, but I had to just write it out. I don’t know if I wanna be anyone’s girlfriend, but I want to be someone’s something. I want to be Gustav’s something. I don’t know when, actually, I do know when I’m going to see him again, but I just want him to feel the same way about me. I know he loves me, but I don’t know if it’s the same type of love, the way that I love him. I’m worried I completely obliterated any chance I had with Serbia for Gustav. I know he’s worth it. He has to be.

I’m so messy, literally and figuratively. I have messy insides, and they’re spilling everywhere, and it’s making a mess. It’s making such a disgusting mess everywhere, and I just want Gustav to clean it up. I get so hot, thinking about Gustav, thinking about him touching my ass and my tits, touching my thighs and my waist, touching my hands and my neck. Thinking about how he could hold my face in his big hands and graze his thumb across my lip to remove the spit he left from kissing me. Thinking about his stupid smile and his dark eyes. I want him to touch me so bad. Sometimes I look down at my body when I’m lying down, drifting off to sleep, and I can almost hallucinate his hands on my perfect tits, his perfect hands. When they tense, the vein is noticeable, and it makes my blood cold, turns my skin into a lustful freeze that can only be cured with his warm touch.

I was thinking the other day how I have this absurd determination, an almost lust for life. If I want something, I will go to insanely great lengths to get it, and I’m not really one for backing down, which is probably why every man I’ve ever met thinks I’m crazy and why they never want to introduce me to their friends, but they’ll show pictures of me because I mask my insanity very well with a cute smile.