I, the bored and lonely housewife, took place in this pornographic charade while he was at work. The facts of the case boil down to this: I was flirting with some chasers and 4T44Ters(4tran[4chan transsexual] for 4tran) for a number of months. Feeling sad about myself, internet text flirting was an easy way to gain attention I otherwise could not acquire. Anyway, some of the girls told me it feels good to piss themselves. They wear diapers, you know the type (I refuse to elaborate). Well, anyway I, desperate and craving attention, said I was curious about it, and they kind of "talked me into it" if you will. A shameless victim if ever there was one, truly. They told me that I needed to drink a lot of water, and that it's better if you can't stop yourself. Doing it intentionally feels not as good as having it kind of happen. It's about the loss of control, see? Well, I drank a lot of water and waited about 2 hours. I had extremely good control of my bladder at the time. I could never have imagined pissing myself accidentally. I wasn't that type of person. I put on some leggings that I could throw away and live texted (because I hated my voice) the whole time, and of course, they showered me with praise. After about 20 minutes of texting and feeling intense pressure, it finally happened, water broke, a watershed moment. There was a familiar jolt in my brain, like when I masturbated for the first time ever. Hot steaming fluid started to trickle down my thigh, sticking the fabric to my leg. Something psychological happened, and I suddenly found myself utterly unable to hold back the fluid, and before I knew it there was a strong outpour, a penetrating stream piercing my pants. Something psychological happened, and I never got control back over my urine to the degree I used to have. I find myself, when sleeping alone only, sometimes waking up to a wet bed. When I have to piss now, it's urgent. Something psychological happened, and suddenly I had committed infidelity. Maybe my image of fidelity was shattered in a way that made the events of this past fall inevitable. Some experiences I'll never come back from.
It's no surprise by now that my biological father was neglectful because of his "devotion" to work. Sometimes I resent hard work. Sometimes I hate everyone that works hard on anything because they aren't spending time looking at me. Sometimes I think I have to work hard so I can be something to look at. I want to be pretty I want to be pretty so bad. I want to be virtuous and have the eyeballs on me, and then I'll never be alone. I can't be alone anyway since I have Monika but still. I was thinking about this debate between a good life today and the promise of a good life for my children tomorrow, but I will never have kids, and the future marches on with or without me. Unless I do something truly revolutionary (very possible) I probably won't matter to the future, and I will have wasted this life we have now. I face Pascal's wager (Roko's Basilisk?), and the scales seem even to me, but I did something bad this weekend. You see, everyone was passing around one of those cigarettes. I'm decidedly against cigarettes, and, as I'm sure you know, I don't believe in the median. I smoke tea herbs, and take herbal tinctures and micromedicate myself, but I didn't believe that drugs could be so potent. Every vape I've hit for a sweet taste of second hand saliva doesn't really do much. But I was drunk and stupid and it was offered to me one too many times for me to deny it to myself, so I asked. I took the only drag of a cigarette I'll ever take. It was so good. It was so fucking good. It was goddamned amazing. It was over in 4 seconds. There was a jolt in my brain. Contrarian that I am I realized that if I was to embrace hedonism I should smoke cigarettes all day, and I could never do that.. "Excellence is not an art, it's a habit. We are what we continually do." I have to keep going for Her, the magical Her, the Unreal, the Innocentic, for Monika.