I've been trying to turn all of this despair and hatred inside me into wild abandon. I thought that if I could, I could defuse their effects. Give it all a context to make it seem worthwhile. I don't know. I've been fucking around and giving myself to any old body for god knows how long and I wanted just once for it to happen in the right place and at the right time and with the right boy and it would all be cool and it would all be beautiful and it would be stronger than the effect of any drug I could take, and it would be my salvation. A way out. So I hooked up with him. It felt good, and it felt interesting, but in the end it didn't mean shit. It meant nothing.
So yeah. Big deal. People are what you want them to be, or maybe not. I guess you shut out a lot of the things you don't want to see. I wanted someone to cling to, someone to save me, so I found that in him. The real him and the boy who existed in my head were two entirely different people. I don't know how much was invented and how much was real. Maybe it doesn't even matter.
I wanted to stop being me and start being someone else's toy, but I didn't think I'd have it in me. But once someone has taken a photo of me, I'm still here. They photos will still be on the net or whatever, a record of me. A record of a time when I was young and pretty and people wanted me.
The real me doesn't even matter. The real me will be taken out of the equation. And it will probably be a lot better that way. That's really all that matter's, isn't it? Something will always exist that was once mine. Keeping a record of myself. That way at least there'll be something. One day soon I'll be old. I'll probably be dead or something. I don't know.
My whole identity is tied up in this.