The shadows are fucking with me. I see myself in pink and blue. My legs, concealed under black leggings, I need to peel them off. I want to touch. All I want are orgasms. I let the couch absorb my bodyweight. I close my eyes, and my consciousness flies out of my ears. I want to be outside. I want to be by the water. I want to see my pink and blue body in the clear water. I want to be at the beach. Laying in the sand, sandwiched between Layla, my friend, and Anthony, my lover.
Right now I’m with Jefa, M, Lena, and Tim. We wanted to go to a Future and Migos concert in Camden. We ended up at an iHop in Point Pleasant, NJ because the concert got shut down at 10:30. Fucking lame. I had DS2 drawn across my chest in purple eyeliner, and a purple teardrop on my cheek.
I cry about Anthony again. When I trip, I can’t stop thinking about us. I see myself made of gold, I see his reflection on my skin as he sinks into me. Deep, fast. “Do you like it fast, or deep?” He asked me as he slid his cock inside me, knowing he’s fucking making me love him. His eyes burn into mine as he plays with my body, grabbing my weak wrist with his hand and leaning in to meet my lips. I see my skin falling off as he uses me. And soon I’m melting in his hands. The attraction is crazy. Fireworks. I am red and swollen.
When I see him next time, I don’t know if I’m going to cry, and that makes me think about what purse I should bring to prom. Lena tells me that he loves me. She tells me that I need to stay away from him because he’s madly in love with me. I’m the love of his life. But I’m also the source of his depression. She tells me that it’s because of his conservative mindset. His plan when he got to college was to be single, get a degree, find a pretty, basic girl who would sustain a good, reputable image. Someone well-liked by everyone. Someone whom he wouldn’t have to worry about opening too much to.
And then I come along. And I change his world. He sees me as someone beautiful, exotic, sweet, deep, caring, understanding. He says we are very similar. I remember the times where he told me he adored me. And I know he still does. I wish our relationship hadn’t been so fucked up. We can’t be together, and I know that. The last few times we had sex, it was incredible. I remember him bending me over everywhere in my apartment, pinning my hands behind my back while he drove his cock in me. I remember him lifting my legs up and kissing me, stretching my mouth, spitting in my mouth. Feeling his teeth. My nails run down his back. He flips me over after I trace my tongue on his tattoo. He runs his tongue down my spine, until he gets to my ass, then slithers back up to the orchid tattoo on my neck. My hands were pinned down. I was fucking soaked. I want him to see me in my gold dress. I want him to see me wrapped in gold, just like in my trip. And I want to know that he feels what I feel. I won’t make it easy for him by any means. He needs to know. I will not cry, I can’t afford to bring that much makeup with me. I don’t even think I can buy a new purse for prom. Fuck it. Lil Uzi chants in the background, I’m over the edge.
By the way, my hair ideas for prom are: Half up, half down. Blow out ($35)
Updos are overrated.
I can’t wait to look beautiful, I can’t wait for him to see me. People keep telling me to stay away from him, but the last thing I want to do is be a ghost to him. I close my eyes, I feel tortured, but the pain shines even more brilliantly. That brilliance is what I want to show him. I want to make him see what I feel. But for him, it’s impossible and I can’t accept that. It makes my eyes red, my heart ice-blue. My skin stings thinking about how he doesn’t even realize how I feel, nor does he care. For now, I hide in the shadows.