February 17, 2004|
It's the end of the world because I keep growing older. The things I like keep growing older. And then ker-splat, I am dead. I don't know what happens then.
Sexual frustration makes me retreat into myself and become somewhat depressed. That a desire to fuck can take control disturbs me. We're supposed to be better than this.
My desire for affection/love disturbs me, too. The more infatuated I become with a person, the more comfortable I feel about the idea of penetrating them.
It's like a horrible joke to get people to procreate.
I think I am going to show people my pictures sometime and then they won't be scared if I want to photograph them. Those sons of bitches.