Call Me Freak

by J.A. Roles

Everyone has trauma, therapy can't fix. And that's okay. You're okay. We'll get through this life together.

He was just having a moment, but he's better now. He's calm, collected, ready for the outside world again. He'll be a respectable member of society... I would say again, but who the fuck am I kidding, I've never been respectable, but who really is? Society is full of kiss asses. The kind of people that pretend to be everyones best friend. The one who licks his boss’s balls on a Monday morning, whilst secretly coming down from his cocaine fuelled weekend. Fakes. Not me. I am who I am. Well, usually. I mean, we all play a role at some point. We all pretend to be stable. I don't believe there's a single human that isn't really fucked up by life, by experiences... and if there is, then that's one lucky motherfucker right there.

A used tampon catches my eye. One of my favourite items of yours— always. I hold it to my nostrils and inhale it. Your scent hasn't changed. I wonder if you still taste the same? I lick the still wet blood up and down, tasting your blood mixed with your pussy's natural wetness. Fucking delicious. You must have discarded these items before you went to bed.

I hadn't even noticed the time pass by so quickly as mother had been staring at the wall and I'd thought about how harshly she'd treated me all of my life. So, why was I here? Why do I visit? Why do I give a shit?