number one rosa klebb stan and simp

almost had a panic. the familiar old kind about being predatory just because my eyes had landed somewhere impolite for a half second- no, i should say it properly. i had it because i'm gay. because i thought another woman was attractive, and was immediately guilty about it. when i told my friend she told me "you'll get over it."

i think about my time spent working in hell, they're like flashcubes, so painful and stark, intensities nothing else will ever reach. long stretches of delirium punctuated by terror. i have peace now, but a part of me still reaches for the grim satisfaction and guilty affirmation that would crash over me after of surviving another wake nightmare. the adrenaline would briefly shake me awake from the perpetual exhaustion, but not to reality, instead to the glass-sharp edge past that, a hyperreality.

its not even so much that i despise showering, more that it feels unnecessary, even redundant, if i'm going to be wearing the same dirty clothes, and sleeping in the same dirty bed. it feels pointless.