If there’s a cure for this, I don’t want it. If there’s a remedy, I’ll run from it.
With so much craziness happening in this country this weekend, I took long breaks from social media over the weekend and indulged in self-care in the form of multiple orgasms. It was glorious.
I’m usually plugged in and connected all the time, but I found myself disconnecting a lot this weekend, locked in my apartment with a lover who was working here for the weekend and therefore got to bypass my usual ‘no overnights’ rule because when I see him, it’s always special, and we like to make it last.
And then, the morning after he leaves, I wake up feeling like this — blissful and ready to tackle whatever the day throws at me.
And even though I think I’m full and I’ve gotten all I can take, love in the form of an almost 3-hour phone call from someone else shows up, and pushes me further into the “Bitch, you on now!” mood.
Cause I am on. I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and said, “Fuck that; I’m on.”
I put on this shirt that Jae gave me. Parted my hair and put some handmade bows in it. Put on red lipstick.
Sat on the unmade bed that is still covered in his scent, and took pictures of myself in my t-shirt and panties because I’m on, bitch.
Nothing can top this mood today.
Today, I am unstoppable.