I asked him to stop calling himself that. He can’t hear me, I’m way at the back of his mind, buried under daily bullshit and active thinking. I feel sad about that… because I rather like him.
When he’s not busy putting himself down and he’s instead a hopeful creature, he imagines dancing with me. Can you imagine how flattered I am after countless asshole treating me like a brainless bimbo lying flat on my back in their heads?
I imagine you cannot, but still… I hope that you can.
Then there are the few who imagine me without clothes on and hope I’ll do all the work, to boot. How rude! Have you actually seen me without clothes on? DO YOU EVEN KNOW MY NAME?!?!?!?!
What fucking world do we live in where people think they have the rights to undress each other in their heads without even knowing their name?
I admit, there is one curious man out there who tried to envision himself naked and invited me to do the same. He’s also on my list of intrigue. Since I know neither one’s names, I cannot call them out here and wait, hoping they figure out that I can hear them.
Instead, I wait for the one who actually becomes telepathic. Some day, we’ll have a conversation, mind to mind. If not, well, I’ll die a lonely broad. I think I prefer that, considering every man I’ve ever been with has cheated on me in one way or another. Hint: being aroused at another woman is cheating, whether you like it or not, boys.
No, I lost “Rat Face.” I know it. I’m too pretty for him, it can’t possibly work out. I can’t possibly be looking for a man full of substance and kindness and generosity. I can’t possibly be looking for a good man rather than a handsome man. Hey, dude, can I ask you a question? You ever hear the phrase “beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”
(Isn’t it cute, ma?)
I give up on the human race. I’m going to re-roll into a new species. Snow leopard, I hope… but if not, God already calls me the Angel of Love. Not Cupid, though. That’s a dude and I’m definitely not a dude.
Anyway, I ran out of food stamps until next month and I’m thinking about switching to Sam’s Club as my sole source of food. The veggies aren’t as great, but lately… the veggies just aren’t great. Stupid droughts… but at least there’ll be a great plentiful amount, should I buy them from Sam’s.
On that note, it’d be delightful if my parents would just eat at least a little of what I eat. It’s exhausting, making food for three all week. Three people who eat three completely different menus. My mom tried to eat my food, but her lack of interest in it has made me decide that it’s obvious I’m just not good at making it taste good to normies.
Besides… I can tell there’s some dude at Sam’s Club missing me. I’m going to go see what his brain is all about. I’ve had enough of insecure deli boys. I need a real man. Rawr!
Angel-Sansara 