10-19-21, 02:32 AM

omegle.......

they're there for the show, i'm there for the opening act. lips tightly pressed until small talk commences. i like it when the curtains open. they like audience participation. i don't, so i give my all into the mindless conversation as it's all i'm really there for. passing the time. thinking about what it's like on the other side of the earth. feeble desperation from whoever the f*** it is, lust dominating all senses and hotwiring all control over basic human decency. i'm dehumanized, objectified, used, and disregarded - give me all your male attention! hidden in a shroud of anonymity that fuels and jumpstarts courage and makes my hands spell out the most nonchalant coy words onscreen. i'm reduced to an asian slut, a whore with baby bottle red lips for baby bottle tipped d*cks. three-dimensionally, it's another pair of legs threatening to intertwine with mine. an unknown man drunk on the thrill and the gap between our years spent circling the planet. i'm only there for the rush. the slight boost, the energy that rushes up my veins and leaves quicker than the speed of light. the appreciation and the dehumanization and the empty praises to my physical appearance that i know are submerged in salaciousness and nothing more. so maybe i'm still capable of participating and confining to the needs of a patriarchal society. i tease and test my limits and it still feels hollow. there is no rush, there is no excitement, only guilt and regrets of f***f***f***f***f*** i f***ing hate d*ck! i dig at the bottom of the barrel and scrape until its grooves are clean and the remnants of its contents are with me and do it out of genuine enthusiasm and not desperation. nothing's there still. my heart is as hollow as my bones and my throat is drier than the worst dry spell at the sahara desert. i'm tired. comphet has made me live a living hell.