It's just easy to get in and out of here. Summer, in three days, is when I'll start the transfer to zulieka.com
I can't go to LA. Our fights are pathetic. We turn into hairy, violent creatures.
It's not LA that I want to go to--I want to just go. I become pathological, whatever that means. Selfish mostly. A nasty bitch is his favorite moniker. He becomes the man I consciously have ousted from my life: jealous, possessive, childish, desperate for maternal affirmation, and worst of all, whiny.
He held me down by the wrists and talked directly with my nipples. I can see that they are the biggest problem between us. If it weren't for them, none of this would have happened. He is talking to them, asking them if they are enjoying the power play and is that why they look hard? as I watch the wall and make note of where the wallpaper isn't lined up exactly. Then I bend my knees and kick both my feet out against the plane of his chest, and when he falls back, I pound into him with my fists. I have some light bruising around the wrists (I was really hoping for more) whereas he has black/blue footprints on his pecs. He always trumps my victimhood, dammit. The damage to his soul, he says, is irreversible. My student Genia, who feels music instinctively, points to her head and says "There's no such thing as soul, it's all up here." Good god do I need a break. Why doesn't he?
I can't go to LA. Our fights are pathetic. We turn into hairy, violent creatures.
It's not LA that I want to go to--I want to just go. I become pathological, whatever that means. Selfish mostly. A nasty bitch is his favorite moniker. He becomes the man I consciously have ousted from my life: jealous, possessive, childish, desperate for maternal affirmation, and worst of all, whiny.
He held me down by the wrists and talked directly with my nipples. I can see that they are the biggest problem between us. If it weren't for them, none of this would have happened. He is talking to them, asking them if they are enjoying the power play and is that why they look hard? as I watch the wall and make note of where the wallpaper isn't lined up exactly. Then I bend my knees and kick both my feet out against the plane of his chest, and when he falls back, I pound into him with my fists. I have some light bruising around the wrists (I was really hoping for more) whereas he has black/blue footprints on his pecs. He always trumps my victimhood, dammit. The damage to his soul, he says, is irreversible. My student Genia, who feels music instinctively, points to her head and says "There's no such thing as soul, it's all up here." Good god do I need a break. Why doesn't he?
