Lock up

I feel, this pressure on the chest, like, of such fear that he is not around... and that I actually don’t know where he is... I don’t think function properly with the prince... his confidence; his detachment... maybe true love is like that. Not this constant yearning, heart wrecking, constant feeling...

I am not that much of an Emo... I do not cry in public... I cry a lot, but I do not cry in public... my prince... you are the only who has seen my cry. Of all my traumas... if you look closely... I cry alone...

I need to feel less... how do I feel less? I was watching this documentary on emotions... people who act on their emotions are even more addicted to the... People, who express their rage openly, are more addicted to it...

I do not express my rage... I bottle it up inside, till I want to die... and then... I cut myself...

I don’t know how to scream... or yell... I have never yelled at anyone...

On this blog... I used to talk about sex... which was virtually inexistent... but... if this is my diary... why am I not writing? About it.

This Journal... must and will have to remain, password protected. So you will have to get to guess the password, from the hint. Or just leave it.

I talked to Emma today... well we just said hi... and he reminded me of something... a year ago... I did not masturbate...

Cumming with only wedgies and water is really hard... like really hard in some cases it can take... hours... I have accomplished it... like... a few pair of times... I doubt there are more than a five (OMG)... It was so rare and so unique I didn’t count them as masturbation till very recently... when I met Daniel... maybe later...

(I need to speak about Daniel. He has acquired such dimensions... I think it was a lie... he has grown into this figure in my life... he doesn’t deserve it)

Then... I met Emma, and I don’t know... why he made masturbation with your hands look so fucking hot... the way he wrote in his journal about it... and once I tried it... and it was awesome... because I could cum... So easily... and now I masturbate till me cum much more easily... and much more quickly... and much more often...

And... Now sex... has come... too late... because I haven’t cummed during sex... I need to cum in front of the prince... I need to make him cum so much. I need him to have an orgasm... I think... that... would be the end of my virginity... getting someone to an orgasm... I need to fucking, fuck him...

I keep thinking, maybe I just need to get drunk off my ass to do it... but god... I have such an alcohol aversion... it’s such a turnoff... its cheating... lying... and I don’t want that... or maybe I do? Maybe only I could get drunk... but he would have to stay sober... one of us has to remember...

Gosh... and when he talks about sex he is so vague... I wish he would just use words to describe me why is it so hot...but I understand... finding words it’s so hard to talk about sex... he keeps promising shoat, but this is the day.. He hasn’t sent me anything... I had this story to share back... it’s like the only story of his type I’ve read... though to be honest I did skip some of the just plain sex parts.. 

He is so selfish... I asked him as politely as I could what happened if he got the chance to travel again for sex... and I so desperately wanted him to tell me, "I’d make you come with me... because I’m sure you have fun"... but no... I don’t think if I’ve told him enough how much I envy his sex, how much I’d like to experience an orgy... even though yeah... its cares me like hell. He just refuses to share... how much I would love to be in his art lessons... but he hasn’t invited me... how much I’d like to be like him... and be better for him... but he just doesn’t invite me to... he has never sent a song... or shared a picture... or like done anything I haven’t asked before... I know that he gives when he is asked. He just doesn’t offer... he just doesn’t push... I shouldn’t have been the one to ask him out on the first date... maybe then I would be sure he wants me around...

I could think one of these things... either he is in love with someone as broken as I am and just doesn’t want me to evolve and come back to life... or... he just doesn’t love me enough... or maybe he just is that selfish everything needs to be asked... though when he does give... he gives generously... I fucking ripped his boxer’s god!!!!

Am I asexual?!!! asexual people do not hit on Emo boys on MySpace.... do not ask girls on msn to have virtual sex... do not bang 17 year olds in collage facilities... maybe I’m not asexual at al... Just some closeted homosexual... who just doesn’t dream of fucking boys... I’m so screwed... I right now, just want to fuck him.  the prince... just let him do whatever he wants to do... he want me to fuck him... fuck him real hard... he wants me to cum inside him... god... he wants that... someone actually wants that from me... I want to do it... but I don’t want to cheat at it... I want it to be ME fucking, I want him to just arghh... ask me this... this way... plead to me for it.... maybe while he is wearing a collar... maybe after I have just ripped his boxers off... then I fuck him, and fuck him really hard... cum with him...

Right now, I’m turned on... by this words...of having him deliciously naked, over me, his skin, against my skin, his cock against my cock. His smell... he has this smell... I haven’t managed to describe it... it has a sweetness... a raw sweetness... nah that’s not the word... it just smells, like I have been touched by a prince... by love... that there’s someone that cares about me.... he smells like I’m not alone anymore... like there’s someone I can put my arms around to... how can something smell like that? But it does... it does to me... it smells like: God I want this!!!

As corny as it sounds... I don’t want to always have sex, or do my things with the prince...

I’m starting to think that I do not love the prince like he loves me. I think he loves me more... and here comes the dilemma... should I tell him... god... prince... I don’t love you the way you love me...

I haven’t told him, how really fucking scared I am to tell my mom about him... and that I do think, that my relationship can be... scarred... that I wish I could hug him in public oh so often I didn’t feel the need bringing him home... that I feel... that I just don’t belong with him ever... if we are alone, it’s the window... or the time, my family will come back...

Love is about honesty... and here I’m honest with him.... either that or an act of self-sabotage... I’m going to lock up this journal... from now till forever… 

(4 days late)