There comes the breaking point, where you have nothing to lose, and adrenaline flows through you like it's the water that makes up 80 percent of your body. When 1,000 angel wings pop out from your body and you annihilate your oppressor, like giant Mech robots do on Anime shows.
I am living my life in overdrive.
Power and pride is gathering in my...loins. Teehee! Loins! LOINS!!!!
Foolish and I went to Castro. Before that, I spent a goodly amount of time preparing to look like hot shit and smoking raspberry cigarettes.
"Damn girl, if I was gay, I would want that tight booty of yours..." -Liam (a guy friend)
"DO NOT talk about my ass!" -Me
Foolish and I got pizza and some man behind us, as I paused two seconds before I went to the counter, yelled "Hurry up and GO!" and I turned, glared, and snarled, "Don't be such a bitch about it." The rest of the gay men in the store chuckled and covered smirks, while I stood in lupine victory. His lip trembled. I turned and ordered two slices of pepperoni.
We went to a bar where I ordered my signature cocktail: a mix of peach schnapps, cream, orange juice and vodka. Some bar patrons wanted to know the name and we at first called it "The Raging Lesbian" but I said, "No, let us call it The Bionic Femme."
Yeah, my wounds are still fresh. They are hellish and they burn with envy. Fine. I ache.
There is no turning back now, and I feel no shame. I am hurt; the game has hurt me. The gay community has hurt me. Love has fucking whooped my ass, dumped me in a gutter, and left the number of some hooker at the power exchange on my inner forearm in black sharpie. "Call me. I'd really like to see you again."
You know what? I DON'T care. I don't care if my love means absolutely nothing, to anyone. So be it. There's basically nothing you can do, right?
I am ready I am ready I am ready. I am ready to graduate from the things that keep happening. I'm a big girl now and I can FUCKING do this.
Attention: Lesbians! This is a code red. The prisoner has escaped.
I can take you. And I will.
I am living my life in overdrive.
Power and pride is gathering in my...loins. Teehee! Loins! LOINS!!!!
Foolish and I went to Castro. Before that, I spent a goodly amount of time preparing to look like hot shit and smoking raspberry cigarettes.
"Damn girl, if I was gay, I would want that tight booty of yours..." -Liam (a guy friend)
"DO NOT talk about my ass!" -Me
Foolish and I got pizza and some man behind us, as I paused two seconds before I went to the counter, yelled "Hurry up and GO!" and I turned, glared, and snarled, "Don't be such a bitch about it." The rest of the gay men in the store chuckled and covered smirks, while I stood in lupine victory. His lip trembled. I turned and ordered two slices of pepperoni.
We went to a bar where I ordered my signature cocktail: a mix of peach schnapps, cream, orange juice and vodka. Some bar patrons wanted to know the name and we at first called it "The Raging Lesbian" but I said, "No, let us call it The Bionic Femme."
Yeah, my wounds are still fresh. They are hellish and they burn with envy. Fine. I ache.
There is no turning back now, and I feel no shame. I am hurt; the game has hurt me. The gay community has hurt me. Love has fucking whooped my ass, dumped me in a gutter, and left the number of some hooker at the power exchange on my inner forearm in black sharpie. "Call me. I'd really like to see you again."
You know what? I DON'T care. I don't care if my love means absolutely nothing, to anyone. So be it. There's basically nothing you can do, right?
I am ready I am ready I am ready. I am ready to graduate from the things that keep happening. I'm a big girl now and I can FUCKING do this.
Attention: Lesbians! This is a code red. The prisoner has escaped.
I can take you. And I will.
But I'm not.
Back to my extremely hetero Amaretto.