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Nasty whore disease.

I’m starting to think I look suspicious, or have some kind of aura that automatically makes me prone to meeting rude individuals. I seem to get treated like shit even when I make en effort to be kind and polite. I’m at the point where I want to snarl at the first person who looks in my direction.

I’ve been sick for over a good month now. I have this hacking cough that won’t go away and this stabbing pain in my side that makes sex and sleeping semi-unpleasant experiences. I’m hoping it’s not pneumonia, but who knows at this point. I could have caught the nasty whore disease from someone at work—it seems more than likely, really. Every time I leave a drink somewhere I come back to find someone else slurping it down. Even if I write my name in black sharpie it doesn’t seem to make a whole lot of difference. And they wonder why sickness spreads so quickly? I’ve taken to tossing out my cups after I down a good half of it; not much of a choice when it comes to that.

I’ve been eating nothing but shit too. For some reason my mood is much improved. I wouldn’t say I’m not depressed, m0re that I’m in a distant state of mind. I’m trying not to think about the fact that I’m getting a little rounder in the rear and my clothes are becoming snug. It’s a combination of seriously not giving a fuck, pure arrogance (something I never thought I’d have), and knowing that no matter how disgusting I get—-

I’m still fucking getting laid!  Therefore, what the fuck does it matter? 

It’s the Audis and the Versace sunglasses and the New Rocks. I’m becoming one of those label consumers that used to make me disgusted. Somehow, I don’t care. It’s like a veil has fallen over my sensibilities. I want to eat rich food—anything cute and cuddly swaddled in baby fat—fuck as much as humanly possible, watch as many bad horror movies as Hollywood can possibly produce,  read and watch as much porn as I can fit into the ten hour period I’m allotted, and mostly I want to sleep like a king in my cave-like loft with a sheepskin under my naked body. Somehow, this is the only way I have staved off that beast that has been haunting me since I was ten. LaVey would be proud.

My demons are always with me, but through lawless decadence and leather furniture they are sated.

For now.

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