Episode 80

Pubis

Small Sauce :(
Art Credits:
Models - No face = No clue
Photographer - No chance ^^

As I'm prone to do (pre Ablog = Open Diary) imma rant about the cuties for a minute. If I am repeating things I often say on the subject, it's for affirmations, not outright idiocy, though there may be some of that included.

It's getting more difficult to resist the draw.

I can still see her smile. Considering I have low-to-no visual imagination (my brain thinks in literal prose (words), not images/pictures), this fucks me off.

From experience, I know I won't be thinking about her tomorrow. I don't know anything about her, and that's the way it always is. I crush on faces and ideals, rarely ever the person. People don't interest me much. Their stories and archetypes do. I'm that far down the hole--that's how I see strangers. I don't think of it as some bullshit disassociative mental illness, but my personal process about how strangers affect me. The snap-judgments I imagine are largely more than they've earned for their impact.

As a self-centered individual, it's pretty rare for me to notice someone staring at me. In its purest sense, I rarely recognize there're other people around, much less looking at me. People tell me this shows confidence. I believe it shows an utter disregard for other people's opinions of me. It's really none of my business what people think. I live public, online and off, as a matter of course. To say I'm looking for validation would be dishonest. I already know what I am. I can accept professional help easily, but as far as who I am and my life goes, I have my own conceptions.

Anyway, whenever I pop the bubble and look around, I see weird shit. Like in-series; like all at once. Usually from girlies since they're the only ones I like looking at. Raised eyebrows, sideways glances. People watch me like I watch them. I don't understand the hidden smiles. A half-smile in return. Was that a fucking blush? When I get eye-contact, I force it. Apparently I'm supposed to--alpha male, eyes of the tiger, and all that fuckshit. It's an act, and a reflex. I really don't care what they think or how they respond.

All I want to know is what the fuck is their story is if they have nothing better to do than enjoy my off-key singing, watch me act like a jackass, and laugh at my hollow, snarky quips. This is why I'm still single, Mk. 12.4. I don't respect the game or the players. I don't have a lack of game, I have a veritable arsenal of bitter-anti-game to compensate and god-fucking-bless me for it. I honestly get pissed off when I tone it down and flirt instead.

I fucking hate flirting. I'm now resisting this with every tool short of outright sabotage.

Back off. Don't talk to me. I really don't trust myself if you do.

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