Nov 17, 2018
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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121015
You make me feel like a shadow. You make me feel like a crack in the pavement. You make me feel like a weed pushing through roses, or maybe like a thorn, like a sharpness needing to be shed from a beautiful thing, or a dark, greasy stain on your life that no matter how hard you rub, it just won't come out. I feel like a ghost roaming old haunts, like stale air in an empty house in early July. You make me feel like a cloud heavy with rain, like the kind of pain that just aches and aches and never leaves you.
You make me feel like a lost cause, like a flatline and an early grave. I feel hollow, like a doll, like the doll with the ugliest face. You make me feel like a monster, like long claws reaching for legs from under the bed in the dark at 3AM. You make me feel like a nightmare, like your last choice, like the worst thing.
You make me feel like a mouse left screaming in a trap. You make me feel like an ant compared to man. You make me feel like paint on new carpet, like dust collecting on old photographs. I feel like a rock in the bottom of your shoe. You make me feel like it's just not worth it, me and you.
112415
You gave me a potted plant the day before I walked out of your life forever. You told me that I seemed like I could nourish it and help it grow. But I kill all I touch through neglect and willful ignorance... Be it plants, or people.
I watch them wilt, then wither, and slowly fade away.
You said you quit your medication.
It made you sleepy, and sometimes late at night you'd hear the devil in your head. He'd tell you how to die, and you said living without the constant ache of the missing parts of your soul was not worth rotting in the ground just yet.
I told you about the trembling, fearful love in my heart, about a boy who never reached quite far enough to grab my hand. I told you how I screamed and cried for his attention and you told me to leave him, to find someone else.
But people are poison and I am the very worst of all.
You say that I'm caught up in something I'm too innocent to understand, you say I'm too kind to rot in the depths of Hell, but I promise you, I swear to you, every fiber of my soul deserves it.
I'm sorry for leaving you. You needed so much better than me.
051315
You think you're nothing special, but you're wrong. I find myself tracing long lines from your shoulders to the small of your back in the night, as darkness veils our eyes and you snore yourself through another dream that I'll never get to witness. I watch you pull a clean shirt over your head in the morning, sunrise painting the room in spots through the curtains, your stong legs carrying you into the next room as I palm the warmth you've left in the blankets. Your voice pulls me through the fog of resignation, the long-standing promise of death that I'll never let myself tell you of, that I'll fight against until the day your smiles and your laughter no longer gives me a place to rest my heart when I'm weary. You think you mean nothing in a big, wide world of groundbreaking people, I know, but in this universe, in this life of mine, wasting time catching house mice in a stuffy bedroom, lighting incense while whispering prayers whichever Gods might feel like listening-- You are the morning sun and you are the stars in the deep, empy void of night. You will forever be the thread that holds me together, so please understand, you are so much more than you'll ever know.
dreamingwitch replied to your post:dreamingwitch replied to your post: i wanna watch...
Watch The Haunting Hour too! It’s RL Stine’s new show.
o man okay!!! will do !
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
031915
When you're twenty-two, you find yourself crying in a motel bathroom, smoking a cigarette in the dark and trying not to wake your family in the next room. You struggle to sort out the emptiness in your heart, like there's a medicine one can take to solve this sadness, like anyone can understand why it's so hard for you to sleep at night. You wipe your tears on the inside of his old shirt. You take a breath of nicotine and blow smoke toward the shadowy ceiling. Knees pulled to your chest, head against the water-stained wall, you count your heartbeats and wait for the sun to rise so you can climb into bed and pretend that you slept.
031615
I threw your picture away today, and it felt good.
I struck you from the records of my life, like you were never here at all, like your hands never smeared bruises across my skin like paint on canvas.
And I almost forgot about the smell of the alcohol on your breath. I almost forgot the sound of your voice. I almost forgot the night we watched fireworks on the fourth of July, when you raised my sister far up in the air as she reached toward the sky and the flashing of fire in the night, and I crossed my fingers, heart a gong banging in my tiny, heaving chest, hoping that you'd hold me up next, but you never did.
You never even looked my way.
I almost forgot when you left me at the video store, the zoo, the restaurant, at school, at parties, at home. I almost forgot the sting of the welts your forgetfulness always seemed too earn me.
I almost forgot the night you threatened to kill all of us, yourself, the dog. I almost forgot when you cornered me, finger jabbing hard into my collar bone as you spit white-hot anger in my face, “How would you feel if someone bigger picked on you, huh?!”
And I almost forgot how I thought, ‘You're so much bigger, and you do, and I hate you so much that I wish you would die.’
And I threw your picture away today, the only one I owned. It was of us, as a family, smiling together like mannequins, like dolls sitting souless in the woods somewhere cold and miserable. I wanted to rip your face right in half. I wanted to burn your picture to ash.
But I just threw it away, under the old cat litter, under some ads and bills.
Please, I prayed, closing the lid on the trashcan outside, please...
Rot in Hell.
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Your eyes are a deep, dark well. She finds herself dragging fingernails against brick, trying desperately to pull herself from that endless brown as your words flutter far above her like the feathers of much freer birds. Her heart echos like a voice calling in all of the emptiness. Her words tap like a metronome in your ears, like a dull, monotonous droning, “I love you, I love you, I really love you.” And her truths sound like lies, and her tears smell of salt and of weakness and of blood in shark-filled waters. She is so fragile and she is so needy and she is so much more than you thought you were settling for when you told her, “I love you too.” The days drag into nights and into mornings, evenings, dusk. She cries and she begs and she screams and breaks everything you thought she loved. She says she’ll leave, she packs her things. She stretches dangerously tight, the leash you’ve tied around her heart. She cries and she cries and she cries until the darkness breaks way into the gaudy brightness of dawn. You leave a mark on her soul like a bruise, like a brand marking her used and unworthy of love. She tears herself from your life and bleeds a trail along behind her, tracking muddied baggage into the new heart she wraps her wounds with. She is a tumor you’ve been forced to cut out. She is a disease that’s found its way from you to someone else. She was a burden and she was a curse, and she was the only person in this entire, big wide world who ever took the time to unfold your pages and fall in love with the you hiding deep within your ugly, secret chapters. You hate her for leaving. You hate her for not withering away in hopeless love for you. Your eyes are a deep, dark well. She’s clawed her way to the top like an animal. She’s severed you like a rotting limb and left you stranded and all alone. Only when she’s gone, you cry and you cry and you cry until morning bleeds into night.