LOL – Elizabeth Victoria Aldrich

December 25, 2019

1 Night in Eris

 

She was pretty, which meant she was used to getting away with things. I don’t mean murder, not that pretty, but she coasted by life with a personality like a doorknob. What does that even mean? It’s just there, and you use it sometimes and stick stuff in it if you need to? You can move it around and stuff. Whatever.

I was a bit hesitant to fuck this girl (that’s another thing, woman was a word she cringed at, how much regression was she just casually stuck at/on?) because of the whole dead ex’s thing. Plus, she cried when watching basically every movie ever, but not even during the scenes you should cry during. She’d cry during random scenes that reminded her of something sad, like she couldn’t escape her own memories even while watching a fine film, and then apologize for ruining “everything.” She was convinced she was constantly ruining everything. I guess that’s what happens when the world revolves around you! Jesus.

So I’m fucking her right now actually, and her pussy is tight, fucking recluse of course it’s tight, and warm and soft and the word plush comes to mind, I have the laptop on her back right now and I’m fucking her doggystyle or something, whatever. She keeps demanding that I hit her but it’s like bitch I’m typing!! She can’t come without pain, she tells me, but I already made her come twice without any fucking theatrics. It’s all I can do to keep this erection, but I have this feeling that anti-allergy pill was Chinese Viagra because Jesus my dick is a fucking weapon at this point. I was just reading Blanchot and she started blowing me. I don’t know even know how she took off my pants. She’s not fucking quiet.

Like every other girl I’ve had fall in love with me but have it be too complicated for them, she has low self esteem (despite treating everyone else like trash) and a drug addiction. She has high self esteem when she’s high, so there’s that.

You want this to be longer, huh? Yeah, I wanted that too. Damn she comes fast. 

 

P.S. I’m dead & brainless

it started off where i had come back from a long vacation to find i was betrothed to a childhood friend, well, not a friend, exactly; we never ran in the same social circle or talked, but teased each other in grade 6/7 etc. i’m planning the wedding, next thing i know i’m visiting her and she’s rejecting my advances, “try and forget me.” i’m fighting back the tears and patting her on the shoulder. then she and her family pack-up and skip town. 

the next thing i know [most fucked-up] i’m diagnosed with some extremely rare form of brain cancer or variant creutzfeldt-jakob’s disease or something and suddenly i’m in so much physical pain in the hospital they have to temporarily REMOVE MY BRAIN FROM MY HEAD, to like, cut off the tumors/lesions/microwave it/whatever. BUT THEY FUCK IT UP & DROP MY BRAIN. 

SO FOR TWO DAYS I’M SLOWLY SLIDING INTO DEATH TOTALLY BRAINLESS (apparently in my unconscious it’s a bonafide medical fact that a girl can survive two days without anything in her head). it’s like when you remove a source of heat, a trace lingers as it diffuses, so i can still talk; but my brother and dad don’t give a shit. the nurse squeezes a shot into an IV and i feel better. it’s morphine. the fun has begun. anyway long story short i turn up at my dad’s as if a hospice; him and my brother are out somewhere and i don’t have care. someone visits me but i basically have dementia on account of not having a brain.  i turn up the household stereo to the maximum volume to get their attention but it is too late & i die.