Yeah, I'm still alive.
I don't often write in here without being full of drugs, but today I will.
I was actually contemplating deleting this journal because I do feel like I'm just going round and round in circles, writing the same shit over and over again...fucked myself up on ritalin, got distracted by hallucinations of people fucking in the
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..I dunno, I just find myself asking, what was the idea behind this again?
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Ahh...I suppose some sort of reply is in order then. OK.
Firstly, I'm not a nymphomaniac, I'm an erotophobe. I imagine, however, that the internal symptoms of the two are more or less identical. But while the external symptoms of nymphomania are...well...pretty bloody obvious, the only external vent for erotophobia (in my case at least) is this.
Maybe I am a sick fuck (I'm surprised, incidentally, that you're the first person to call me that) but I am completely harmless. This journal is all about what happens iniside my skull at certain times, and with the exception of this journal, inside my skull is where it stays.
at least i've only made love to one person that MEANT something to meTempting as it is to respond, "and how many thousands that didn't?" I'll resist for now and say that on that count we're the same. Although, Im guessing that unlike me you didn't hate every ( ... )
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<3 x deanna
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