People keep asking me when my next sex blog or article is coming out.
The answer: I have no fucking idea!
Sex is the furthest thing from my mind right now. And it feels weird to admit that. But it's true.
When you shut off all the noise. You actually start to hear -- YOURSELF.
Sex is my sickness.
Blowing cocks is my sickness.
Ambition is my sickness.
Social media is my sickness.
I self medicate with these outlets and it's good to be aware of it.
They all give me a massive HIT. And like a drug addict who has had their fix -- all my problems disappear.
I've had to face myself this week. Warts and all.
I've had a lot of physical pain in my body caused by mental anguish. There's been a lot of tears, insomnia and crying myself to sleep. There's been a lot of red wine -- ANOTHER sickness.
Usually by now, I'd be out and about, opening up my pussy for some random guy who doesn't give a shit about me.
Or I'd be on the email or text flirting with emotionally unavailable men.
It's most similar to a seagull swooping for scraps of food.
Well, I deserve more than fucking scraps. A whole lot more.
Because I'm a layer cake.
I'm the most WORTHY girl in this universe.
My body is covered in stars.
Can you see and feel my glow?