I’ve got to chill on P. It’s a physical thing. It is. It’s that look. I’m into that look. It’s that mouth. God that huge fucking mouth. And his strong jaw. And like nose and face and messy hair. It’s all of it. He’s so fucking gorgeous. He’s so tall. I hate this. Seriously. Never. Never met a man that I have been this attracted to. Physically. No, sexually too. Just at all. He is captivating. That’s what he was he was captivating. I am so fucking frustrated that he blocked me on Facebook because I can’t see pictures of him. I am like dying because I can’t look at pictures of his face. This is how fucking… well how pathetic I am. How sexy he is, how attracted I am to someone I haven’t seen since August, how something like that can stay with a person, maybe just me, and how fucking crazy I also am because this is just stupid. And what am I going to do. I want to like email him and ask him to send me a picture of himself. I can’t. I can’t that’s totally fucking insane. But. I want to see his face. It’s so beautiful. It’s so fucking spectacular. And I want to tell him more. I want to talk to him more and tell him how fucking sexy he is and that I just want to do shit to him and make him do shit to me and like no shut your mouth just shut up we’ll figure out how to talk to each other later let’s just fuck and like you just fucking be there and be hot and goddammit so I was thinking about having sex with him last night and totally ruining my underwear just the way that I am I swear to god I think I already came I don’t even need a fucking vibrator if I just squeeze my legs together I’ll fucking get off, anyway I was thinking about him and wanted to actually masturbate and the whole time kept forcing myself to come up with fantasies about J because I don’t want to keep visualizing sex with this man. I don’t. Especially when all the emotional shit I have around him is so fucked up and not ok and very Daddy Issue in a stupid way. Like the bad way. The really pathetic part of my relationship with my dad where he needed my validation and I pitied him because he didn’t deserve it so he forced it out of me. Ugh. UGH! So dumb. But like. The beauty. That’s something real. Because physically he looks unlike anyone I’ve ever seen or ever been involved with. He’s the men I see from afar or on TV and get fixated on. He’s that tall man in my summer class at SAIC that I was too afraid to talk to so I just stared at him from a row back and held shallow breaths every time he spoke with that deep powerful voice. Yeah. It’s that. That’s something. That’s my type. It’s a problem. Because I’m willing to overlook all of the terrible way beyond red flag rather just fucking BAD shit because all I want to do is stare at this man and eventually get him to have his way with me. It’s not ok. I’m like. I’m suffering. This is erotic torture. And not the fun kind. Jesus Christ. Send me a picture.