"Where are we going, and why are we in this handbasket?"
All right, it's official. I've lost all sense of moral fiber, and I'm going straight to... well, wherever it is that bad fangirls go when they have lived a sick and debauched life and finally have to call it quits. (Not sure where that is, just yet... I'm thinking somewhere out in Timbuktu, where there is no internet connection, no TV reception and the word 'slash' means someone just had their tires attacked.)
Either way, and wherever that is... that's where I'm headed. And soon, I would think. I've gone and done something I never, ever, EVER thought I would do.
Something that I felt horrible and guilty, and more than a little naughty, doing. But naughty in a bad way, like when you flirt with that teenage boy who you know is way too young, and that he'll never have a chance, but you make him hope, just for that little bit of time, because it's fun... and sadistic in a way... when they realize they have no chance.
*appears suddenly purer than new-fallen snow* Not that I would ever do that, because it would be wrong and a little mean... anyway, the point is, I'm sick and I'm going to hell and while I know I'll be in the best of company when I get there, it's the journey that worries me a bit.
Because I have done something so deplorable I can't even stand to look at myself in the mirror.
I have written a story.
Not an unusual occurrence for me, and I'm sure you're thinking "What the hell, Riss, get over it and get on with the getting it on!" But really, this is Bad.... with the capital 'B' and everything.
Because I've written it about someone who I really shouldn't have. I used real people. And not with their permission, like I've done before, but I've written it about them, and tried to keep it as close to them as possible. *shakes head in self-disgust*
What's worse... I want to write more. Because I know these people (maybe not in the literal sense, and certainly not the biblical sense, (much to my dismay) but enough to know how to write them.) and I love them, and they each have something original and extraordinary about them that makes me want to scream with frustration when my fingers can't get across the keyboard fast enough to capture the conversation they're having inside my imagination.
I'm lost to the Dark Side, officially and irrevocably. And I can't feel bad about not wanting to go back. That' probably what disgusts me the most. Not that I'm suddenly reading and writing RPF/RPS but that I won't stop myself. If anything, I've been encouraging my sick behavior more than ever over the past week.
Weak... that's what I am... so desperately weak, and twisted and sick...
*evil grin* but it sure is fun!
Either way, and wherever that is... that's where I'm headed. And soon, I would think. I've gone and done something I never, ever, EVER thought I would do.
Something that I felt horrible and guilty, and more than a little naughty, doing. But naughty in a bad way, like when you flirt with that teenage boy who you know is way too young, and that he'll never have a chance, but you make him hope, just for that little bit of time, because it's fun... and sadistic in a way... when they realize they have no chance.
*appears suddenly purer than new-fallen snow* Not that I would ever do that, because it would be wrong and a little mean... anyway, the point is, I'm sick and I'm going to hell and while I know I'll be in the best of company when I get there, it's the journey that worries me a bit.
Because I have done something so deplorable I can't even stand to look at myself in the mirror.
I have written a story.
Not an unusual occurrence for me, and I'm sure you're thinking "What the hell, Riss, get over it and get on with the getting it on!" But really, this is Bad.... with the capital 'B' and everything.
Because I've written it about someone who I really shouldn't have. I used real people. And not with their permission, like I've done before, but I've written it about them, and tried to keep it as close to them as possible. *shakes head in self-disgust*
What's worse... I want to write more. Because I know these people (maybe not in the literal sense, and certainly not the biblical sense, (much to my dismay) but enough to know how to write them.) and I love them, and they each have something original and extraordinary about them that makes me want to scream with frustration when my fingers can't get across the keyboard fast enough to capture the conversation they're having inside my imagination.
I'm lost to the Dark Side, officially and irrevocably. And I can't feel bad about not wanting to go back. That' probably what disgusts me the most. Not that I'm suddenly reading and writing RPF/RPS but that I won't stop myself. If anything, I've been encouraging my sick behavior more than ever over the past week.
Weak... that's what I am... so desperately weak, and twisted and sick...
*evil grin* but it sure is fun!