The Dangerous Twist

ow. my pussy could be a vice. i hate period cramps. bleh.

In more sanitary (sanitarily sane?) news, the boyfriend is taking me to Build-A-Bear today, so we can finally do one ridiculously cute couple thing since we met.

Possibly to make up for him possibly screwing up my vagina for years to come.

Somewhere inside me I am excited, but I suppose the weather and my uterus is pullin' me down.

Breasts are expanding, and I needs to get a new bra. Unfortunately, the money is not providing.

Dum de du.

Sitting in the CSULB library, typing pretty profane ponderings onto my school's keyboard.

I hate this place, this shithole, this cesspool of idiots. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm one of them, vraiment. Did you know, one of the librarians is a transvestite? With flowing blonde hair and a miniskirt. Tres trashy, if you ask me. If I was a transvestite, I'd deck myself out in the latest rags, none of this "I'm a lady so obviously that means I'll dress like a hooker from the eighties" mess.

I'll make like those Japanese boys and do it right. Pale-faced goddess in Victorian mourning and ridiculously expensive PVC boots.

I will be swathed in the black froth on your dying lips, my dearest. The laciest cobwebs of your inner eye.

You'd think it would be a proper gimmick to have a box of pocky in my pocky bag. But no, pockies are for the free and fat. I am chained to the weight of my sinking self-esteem.

Who am I now, that all I think about is buying and selling? Where is my soul of souls? Somewhere beneath those AA leggings.