This Is My New Hobby. I Watch

The Tales We Tell Ourselves About Ourselves Makes Us Who We Are.

And Now, As I'm Lying Alone In My Own Bed, I Keep Thinking About Writhing Against Him Last Night, Naked And Vulnerable. Even After We'd Both Risen And Fallen, Peaked And Plummeted, Even After Marcus Was Physically Shrinking From Inside Me, I Couldn't Stop Clutching, Crying, Trying. Trying To Pull Him Deeper, Deeper, Deeper Within. Trying To Make Him More A Part Of Me Than I Am Myself.

Fortunately For Me, I'm Still Evolving Into The Person I'm Supposed To Be. And Though They Don't Know It Yet, And May Not Come To Accept It, I'm Done Living By Their Protocols Or Anyone Else's. I'm The Only One Who Will Take Credit For My Successes. And I'm The Only One Who Will Take The Blame For My Mistakes. From Now On, I Live For Me.

Marcus Flutie Slept With Just About Every Girl On The Eastern Seaboard Except Me. Though, He Tried To Get Into My Panties When I Was A Freshman But Turned Him Down Because I Refuse To Disempower Myself Just For A Few Clit Twitches.

The Minute Our Correspondence Becomes Obligatory, There's No Point In Keeping Touch At All.