I f##### hate myself right now but also… not really? I just jerked it like twenty-five f##### times today. Yeah. TWENTY-FIVE. My d### feels like it’s been through a f##### cheese grater and my soul left my body around time number 14. I think I’ve ascended past h#### and just straight into some kind of post-nut psychosis.

Like, what the f### is wrong with me? I didn’t even eat today. I didn’t drink water. I didn’t go outside. My room smells like sweat and shame. My right hand is basically a claw now, and my b#### are probably filing a restraining order as we speak. I’m sitting here lightheaded, probably dehydrated, and still considering number 26 just to see if I can.

And here’s the worst part… it still felt better than literally every awkward, soul-draining, fake-smile “date” I’ve been on in the last five years. At least p### doesn’t roll its eyes at me or tell me it’s “just not feeling the chemistry.”

G## I’m a f##### mess.