I can’t live like this anymore.
As it turns out, my last blog post was the early April Fools’ joke.
Apparently if you take a deficient immune system and overload it with organic cottage cheese and local eggs, you get an acute auto-immune rash reaction to both.
An allergic reaction similar to hives. No more eggs. No more curd cheese. The word ‘curd’ rhymes with ‘turd‘, so I should of known the outcome would be sh1tty.
The new approach to breakfast is “raw till noon,” with a side of filet every other day.
I have a new kitchen toy that I’m currently playing with for the 2nd quarter of the year, but I won’t speak more about it until after 90 days.
Before finding my way back to smoothies, and now juicing, cutting eggs out of my lifestyle was an unexpected diet challenge.
I was forced into a camming hiatus for February, and then half of March, with skin and libedo issues.
Meanwhile, Amber forced me to take her old guest bed, after upgrading herself to a King bed for Valentine’s Day; gaslighting me to believe my old mattress I had moved with was “trash.”
She was a ‘know it all’ after I needed her help with a power drill in December, and I wish I hadn’t. She insisted we take away my bed, before I could say no.
Next round of SUV hauling, I notice her boxsprings smelled like cat piss from foster cats, and her BeautyRest “memory foam” showroom model was an actual nightmare.
Memoryfoam, no coil support, is for lightweight, petite, girlies. She said it was “hardly slept on” and now I know why.
Stupid bitch ass botox whore.
C.J. had a milestone birthday, last month, and I wanted to put together some kind of video tribute, but after two weeks of no sleep, I’d never looked worse to do so.
Did this make Amber and all evil, happy? Maybe.
I just want to go on record looking and feeling my best, while I’m glowing and strong, and not weak or damsel in distress energy.
Mourning the missed reconnection opportunity, and suffocating/choking with tears on a “BeautyRest,” I harbored grief in my lungs -bringing back pneumonia from September/October 2023.
I sought help right away this time, and a Z pack reversed the damage. This was a breaking point with Amber’s bed thou, I’d had enough.
I take deep breaths everyday now, as I can’t take my respiratory health for granted anymore.
Nicole, an actual friend, got a local dump pass of her own, and we disposed Amber’s bed from hell for $5.
Bob’s discount furniture let me finance a basic coil bed and boxsprings, as tax season is actually a great time to look for a brand new bed.
After finishing the antibiotics, and sleeping well for the first time in months, I’m sitting in a small office getting a quote for tattoo removal.
Banner picture above was a moment in the cute little office while waiting for my paperwork to be looked over.
Just kidding.
It’s nearly $3,000 to get ONE tattoo lazered 12 times in the span of 18 months for complete removal.
Wow, what a career path after some initial startup equipment investing and one certification with lazors, -I reckon.
Also thou, the first question they ask you on the medical intake form is “do you have an auto-immune history?”
“If yes: this is not for you” – in so many words. Majority of the consultation appointment is risk waiver review.
At least the disappointment quote was free.
——————-
In the spirit of April Fool’s today, I consider texting C.J. something like “Are you done pretending I’m not the love of your life?”
I type it all out, but a racing heart rate imagining ‘how that would make him react’ immediately makes me delete it, and pray instead.
He wants me in fantasy slut mode, or nothing. The rest is tiresome for him.
I’m learning to be obedient in God’s plan and stop pestering him, thou the pain is still excruciating with forced silence. No contact hurts my spirit and soul.
I’ll never understand, as I continue to cry, remaining offline all the meanwhile.
The comeback is stronger than the setback, however, as I find myself seeking to new destinations for seasonal solo Chaturbate revival.
I’m seeking encouragement to not give up on steady camming income/success, but feeling so emotionally broken is giving up inevitable?
My cat sitter has a tattoo convention during the Chicago Exxxotica expo in a couple weeks, so Miami in May is the next best thing/focus.
Promo modeling at the expo booths’ will boost cam placement with site traffic for the whole weekend event.
Guaranteed exposure is much needed after a Q1 hiatus, and current chatroom shadowban Chaturbate algorithm punishment…
However, collabing with strangers is off the table indefinitely. So, travel thoughts are a bit less fun without imagining extending invitations to C.J.
I wanted to quit one out of two vanilla jobs so bad this winter, feeling stagnant and burnt out –but after filing my tax return, I decided to stick it out a little longer.
The tax return covers a flight for myself and a travel companion for spring break. My retired bingo partner has a son who has a property in south Flordia.
Her and I have been talking about getting away since last Christmas, and the stars have finally aligned by surprise, perhaps?
She would get to visit her son, while I get to ocean float and heal my body with salt water a few sunrises in a row.
A “win-win.”
In a perfect world does the unimaginable ‘love of my life’ find me floating in the water, laying in the tide, and we instantly feel each other’s energy at first sight?
I try to drown my internal screaming with every wave that knocks over me. So, it’s only fitting I be found while letting the ocean’s movement purify and pacify me.
In my imagination I want the man that finds me in the water to sound just C.J, and his voice causes my heart to skip a beat.
My chest hurts now because I know that sounds insane, as C.J. has proven that he doesn’t look for me in other girls.
He doesn’t miss me, or crave me apparently, but my soul refuses to accept that. This pain instantly vibrates my throat, as my chest pressure tightens quickly.
“Out of sight, out of mind,” will echo in my mind till the day I die. I won’t make it to 40, I fear.
The mourning has taken a toll on my everything.
I don’t want to live like this anymore.
Also a direct correlation to why I haven’t used a dildo silicone cocktoy, since January.
Just slow clit play here and there, where I don’t allow myself to think about anything.
I don’t want to fight or beg for love or sex anymore. 💔
‐—–‐—————
I browsed quick porn for the first time in ages before hopping on Chaturbate last week, in an attempt to jumpstart myself (if any fake performance for the sake of tokens came about.)
“Breaking the ice” after so much offline time.
Being wet without lube, is preferred, as Lovense vibration tipping to “trigger wet pussy” is just a sales gimmick.
*insert Reddit links here that stirred up a tickle deep inside myself, before it was all ruined by silently screaming and crying over C.J. yet again*
He had one hand on the back of her neck, and the other grabbing her pussy, while he rocked her face like a fleshlight.
Her backwards on the couch just taking all of him, as he held on to her pussy for balance and she kept her body still for him with throat wide open.
Submission when it’s real love kills me to watch after 45-90 seconds. You can always feel when it’s real, right?
I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but this physical pain WILL NEVER GO AWAY. If I have to quit Chaturbate for good this is why:
The static in my throat, and chest is overwhelming while my clit is physically stinging, and my eyes are instantly watering.
…instead of opening my mouth for cock, I open my mouth and let out a soft wail the neighbors probably know too well, as it’s better than hyperventilating, while the tears of mourning quickly make their way down my face, and neck.
My chest is tight, and my heart rate is starting to panic as I wonder how C.J. doesn’t feel my soul SCREAMING for relief, and so I must breathe and pray for help from God instead.
I ought to delete Reddit when it spikes me into such a spiral, but it’s nice to see others live out what I could have been.
