The high school I went to was like a fountain, constantly spewing out hot men. Year after year, hot guys would come from other districts around the county (this is not Hunger Games). When they simply walked around, they would kill me with looks and some kindness (sort of Hunger Games). In my grade, a lot of them walked in a pack, like wolves, but let's be honest, they were really gazelles that were too fast to bend over and eat from behind. While suffering from being love struck, my horniness was a temporary treatment. I was like a lion, an evolved lion in the grass, watching these gazelles, all ass up, tails pointing in the air, arching towards the ground, always eating and staying so fit. That made me wonder what else their mouths are good for (still referring to guys in high school, not actual gazelles). I wait, move up quietly, watch my primary target (which is the waist). Typically, I go for brunettes, but every now and then, I get a craving for blonde.
I had many infatuations, loves, crushes. Yes, most of them looked like fuck boys. I went to school with respectful fuck boys, so it was easy to get attach. They're cute, beautiful, and I'm certain they're wonderful at giving away a great fuck. Gymnasts, Hockey players, Wrestlers(naturally gay and get aroused during matches but still allegedly straight), even rugby players. I've made many fantasies in my head regarding these athletes. They can vary from topics such as romance and slow to for fast, forced, and bounded. Somehow, I maintain enough self control. That doesn't mean going to the gym is not a struggle. Boners could happen any time for me. Most times, it flies when envisioning a fantasy in my head. I have a very creative mind. Seriously, there are so many things around me that I could turn into a sexual turn on, a bathhouse pleasure, even a merciless bound playground. It's a gift and a curse, but I do what I please with it.
Junior year was only the start of a new suffering. The effects of suffering were still finding their way. Many people don't think mental health issues can compare to physical health. They can effect the body in different ways that just aren't fair. Whether we're hurting in our heads or the rest of our bodies, we can all agree that the pain is real.
Every day, my emotions own me. There is not a day when I am allowed to control them. Many people have told me that I don't make an effort, that I want to be miserable. What they don't realize is that people like me make great efforts and try as hard as we can. Unfortunately, I am part of the fraction of that group of people that doesn't succeed. I can't stop my emotions from running rapid, nor keep them from colliding into each other. My emotions don't only change with the environment. They can change anytime without a specific reason. I can't control them, but I can hide them for a while. It takes a lot of brain power for me to keep them hidden. However, it is still my mind, which means these emotions can become dangerous, to myself mostly.
After Malcolm, I felt less suffocated. The energy I put into liking him turned to hatred. Every time I saw him, I would get pissed off. I either left the room or insulted him. I called him a caramel cunt from time to time. Believe it or not, it was satisfying. It was good to get back to reality and get on with my life. It was nice to be free, even for only a few months.
Ink was applied to my arm, a group of birds in which I was not familiar with the species. They would lay flat and black until hidden was no longer trapped. When they flew, the command of mine guided them. However, I did not.