MANIA. Yesterday I wanted to cut myself and bleed all over the kitchen floor. Today I’m running about like a chicken with it’s head cut off. I don’t trust my mental state. I feel like a pervert. I feel like a mad woman. Making plans plan plans. Shopping. Ordering. Eating. Pacing. Breathing. Freaking. Checking. Counting. Calling. Texting. Drinking. Smoking. Writing. Burning. Worry worry worry. Repeat.
Mmm my pussy smells so good. Feels so good. So velvety and thick and slick. I want to bend that little pale rag doll girl and fuck the shit out of her with my big cock. I want to see her little tits, her dark swollen nipples (I bet they’re a lovely color). Pinch and suck. I want to lift her little skirt, her little dolly feet arching and twisting in her little dolly shoes. My fingers in her little sucking mouth. Her big brown doe eyes looking at me with big empty longing. Her mascara lashes batting. Her powder white skin blushing under my pinches. BIPOLARSEXUAL.
I check the lock ten times before bed. Honk the horn three times. Look in the mirror once. Counting counting three three three. Any mention of death, illness; tap tap tap. How did I keep this behavior under wraps for so many years? Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten off the Effexor. It wasn’t like this on Effexor. Why did I change my meds?
My face is burning from trying to pick and pop things that should not be picked and popped. Pick pick pick. My mind goes a mile a minute and my body follows. Counting, picking, locking, checking. Cursed. Why did I ever give in in the first place? People think I can be cured with logic.
Ouch my eye will be bruised tomorrow. How many times a day? Do I? Check? Lock? I need help. Yesterday I wanted to cut my arms and legs. Today it’s my face I want to rip.
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