I said I would stop writing entries about him but I can't seem to stop thinking about him, therefore, no writing cessation.

I used to fantasize about making love to him all day. At work, at the theatre, at the gym, at the doctor's office, I couldn't think about much else. He has a beautiful body and a beautiful mouth and beautiful hands and his cheek seems so soft that all I could think about was feeling them on me somehow. In one way or another.

Even looking at him, his appearance has a sense of sexual urgency, or maybe that's what is inspired in me when I look at him. It seems like his very emanations reek of "fuck me, we need to fuck, now now now now" and then I feel his hands on my body and his mouth on my neck and he is on me, on every inch, like fluid and I can't breathe because the sensation is so much that it almost hurts. The sex is slow, coiling, like snakes wrapped around each other and moving together and every thrust is like a blinding light illuminating every part of me until I come and I cry because I don't ever want it to end ever ever, the light is so beautiful.

But it's gone dark. I have gone from wanting to be fucked in love, in light and in devotion to wanting to be fucked in punishment. Hurt me on the inside like I hurt everywhere else. Drive into me and rip me apart, tear my flesh apart. Bruise me, make me bleed, dislocate my hips and shoulders, destroy me. Batter my breasts and break my arms, my neck, my back and fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me until the physical pain drowns out the emotional pain and I am awash in a sea of nothing, in shock, near death, and I feel the pain in the distance, like a white noise. Maybe even a smile on my face because now I feel a miniscule representation of the pain you feel, and I understand.