dear and just like that diary,
all of the progress i'd made in the peace keeping department has now gone away again. the unibomber is back to his pouting and pissed off ways. he thinks i'm the hero in this family and it sickens me. maybe i am. there are so many differences between what it takes to be the hero and how i am- omg it would be a never ending post to try and list them all. i'm not in some rat race to see how much sex i can have before my pussy rots away and i have to have it surgically removed. i'm not in to driving around for sex. i'm not into seeing how much dick i can get before i die. sex really isn't that important to me, i have to want it, crave it, desire it from a specific individual- want to give that man everything i have inside me- want to take everything he has to give- and that is a process- something that takes much time and effort. for me it takes love. i want the whole fucking package and 22 years later, the unibomber knows it. i am constantly reminded of the reasons i am not worthy of love. after all, i am a retarded whore. i point at the door, i get the boxes- i'm told i cant do this alone. i announce my children are grown now and that wont fly anymore- i am still a retarded whore. my balls get smaller- like they always do and i retreat back into my corner. becky and the grump all pile up and here we are. good thing i've never even met you.