Dear Diary

Thursday, January 4th, 2018

Dear diary,

Fuck you. And fuck you too, Dr. Swalley.

Friday, January 12th, 2018

This is the stupidest shit I've ever done, I swear to god.

Fine. Fine. For Kiera.

"You don't talk much, Tony," she says.

I mean, no shit. What's there to talk about? I just get mad, okay? Who doesn't? It's all bullshit. Trying to keep ahead, listening to your coworker's crap, all those fuckin' people on the road that don't know how to drive. Kiera bitching and moaning about her friends and her job and how I need to be better with her.

She's been with me a couple years. She should've known I had a shitty day especially after I told her to lay off with her noise. But she kept pushing and pushing.

"What's wrong, Tony? Rough day, Tony? Boss on your ass, Tony? Share your fucking feelings, Tooooony."

Alright. So maybe not those last parts but fuckin' basically.

Okay, okay. She's a good woman. I know. I know. I shouldn't. I shouldn't have hit her. All that noise just built and built and she was right there in my face. I apologized, dammit. Tried to hold her when I calmed down but, okay, yeah. She didn't want me to touch her. Figured she needed to cool off so I went out.

Came home at some point. Night time. What does it matter? Didn't notice all her shit was gone until I woke up. Well, most of her shit. I swear to god women fuckin' hide their clothes like fuckin' squirrels packing away food for the winter. Two fucking years, man. I gave her two years. Treated her right. Bought her things. Took her out. Listened to her talk about her friends. Kelly and that other girl.

So I drank some more. And called her, I guess.

Here I am. Therapy. The dumbest shit. What's there to talk about, anyway? Kiera just needs to toughen up and learn to pay attention. To just give me some space and fucking quiet when I need it. But I guess this is better than Kiera going to the cops. Which is a whole other can of BS. We made a deal and I talk to a therapist and she maybe comes back.

No, I don't talk much, Dr. Swalley. I don't share my "feelings" and I ain't repressing any damn thing.

Now I gotta write this stupid journal. Hand write. Not type. My fucking hand hurts. Gonna hit the gym until I can't think anymore.

Wednesday, January 17th, 2018

Talked about my old man today just to make Dr. Swalley shut up. I watched her nod with her prissy little glasses and take notes every time I said he raised his voice or beat my ass. I'm not stupid. I know what she's looking for and what that means. My father disciplined me. Oh, I'm sorry. He abused me as a child so now I got anger problems.

For fucks sake. That's what's wrong with people these days. They go around worrying about feelings and hurting people. We're churning out a bunch of pussies that are gonna fall real damn hard when they're out in the real world and outside of their little warm cocoons.

The. World. Does. Not. Give. A. Shit.

I mean, look at my mom. She stuck around through all of it because she was raised in that generation. I raise my voice at Kiera and she tucks tail and runs.

Still, last session took a good fucking turn because guess who got some drugs out of it?

Me. Little happy pills. With a side of scotch for a right proper fuckin'. Just like college. I swear to god Dr. Swalley's eyes lit up when I agreed to take them. Little does she know.

Recliner? Check.

Pills? Check.

Scotch? Check.

Here's to you, doctor.

Thursday, January 18th, 2018

Home early today. Had a really fuckin' nice night, all smooth and mild and floaty until I passed right the hell out.

Cramps when I woke up. Pretty fucking bad. Sat on the toilet sweating bullets until my legs fell asleep. Kinda felt a little better so I got dressed and went in.

Sat through the morning review. My numbers are looking good this month so far. But, Jesus, those cramps just came back like little drills in my guts, man. Groaned, grabbed my stomach and barely made it to the bathroom in time to throw up. Chuck even came in to check on me. Who fuckin' does that? I'm in there puking my guts out and you're gonna ask if I'm feeling okay? You need me to puke on your fuckin' shoes to see that I'm not fucking feeling okay, Chuck??

Told him to piss off and he left.

There's no warning label on the pill bottle. It's just a label with my name written on it. Dr. Swalley's not answering her goddamn ph-

Fuck. Whoa. Fuck. The, uh, the cramps went away all of a sudden and I'm feeling pretty fucking good. Everything's all tingling and I can't stop rubbing my tongue against the top of my mouth. This is some good shit. Probably just fucked up by drinking with it. Shit. I can't stop touching myself. Like that time I took ecstasy at the club. Fuckin' wish Kiera was here right now because I've got the biggest goddamn boner I've ever had. Gonna just take care of this bad boy real quick.

Back, haha, fuck. Three fuckin' times. I think that's a new record. Gonna ask Dr. Swalley about side effects when I leave in a second. Man, this is some good shit.

There's four pills left. I'm supposed to take one every other day but, haha, fuck that.

Two little pills down the hatch. Heading off to see the doctor and I'll just beg for some more. I'll just whine and pout like a good little boy and tell her how good my feelings are because of the pills.

Friday, January 19th, 2018

It's a fucking boutique store.

I don't fucking understand. I stood outside on the goddamn sidewalk for ten fucking minutes yesterday, staring at it. Women went inside and came back out like it was no big deal but it's a fucking clothes store. Tuesday it was the doctor's office. Three days ago. I was here three days ago.

"Unique Boutique" is what the letters say on the windows now. The little golden letters are worn - chipped a at the ends here and there. I don't understand. It looks like it's been there for fucking years.

Even with the pills riding my body, I was pissed. Stomped inside, ready to yell and about four women turned to look at me. Shut me right the hell up. These tall blonde and brunette girls in their fancy clothes.

That's what a fucking boutique store is - fancy clothes and necklaces and crap. The whole place smelled like clothes and, fuck if I know. Incense? It just looked like the place belonged there, you know what I'm saying? There's no fucking way on God's green Earth that this place set up shop in three days and looked this settled.

I kinda stepped back and the happy little pills burned away my anger until I could feel it in my ears and cheeks. Goddamn women staring at me. Found the lady that owned the place - arranging things in the corner. Sexy as hell young black woman with these thin dreads pulled up tight in a bun. Wore some long blue dress with a thin scarf looking thing over her shoulders. I think there's a word for that. Not a scarf but I had to ask her what it was because it was bothering the shit out of me, not knowing the word. It's a 'stole'. Fuckin' women and all their fancy damn clothes. Not good enough to have just jeans and a shirt, no. Looked good, though. On her. I could see why she'd wear it with the dress.

So I ask and she laughed. Fuckin' bitch laughed in my face. Said she'd been there for five fuckin' years and didn't know anybody in the district named Dr. Swalley. I started to argue with her but I just fuckin' couldn't. She asked if anything was wrong and that was worse.

I don't remember running out of the place.

Shit.

Fuuuck.

Nobody else is gonna read this so it doesn't fuckin' matter. It was the damn pills anyway. I stood inside the bus stop booth and cried like a little bitch. Had to be the goddamn pills. Coming down from the high or something. It was just fuckin' humiliating is all. She laughed in my damn face and I had to look fucking stupid.

Fuck this. I'm going to sleep.

Saturday, January 20th, 2018

I feel better.

You know, I thought this whole thing was stupid but here I am on a Saturday morning writing in a fucking diary.

I tried Dr. Swalley's number and some guy answered. Deep voice prick asking who I was. Said I had the wrong number. Got pissed when I asked how long he'd had the number. Eight years. Who the fuck was Dr. Swalley? I know I didn't imagine any of this shit. I've still got the-

Aw fuck. The pills. I thought it was okay since she was a doctor. Doctor therapists give out pills, right? Should they still have the right label on them? Fuck. I mean. I feel good. Even the next day, my body still feels all tingly and alive, you know? Can't be that fucking bad, can it? I just won't take any more.

And speaking of tingling, time to load up some porn and go to town before I hit the gym.

FUCK.

I can't get hard and I'm leaking a little. It's all clear and not a lot but it's there. Fuckin' had my favorite video going, stroking myself and then- fucking nothing. Barely a semi-chub. I pumped my dick until it hurt. I could feel it, you know? Stirring, moving against me but just limp.

Almost called into urgent care but I'll wait a few days and see how it feels. Probably a side effect of the pills that bitch gave me. I'm way too fucking young for this shit.

You ever just stare at the mirror and get a weird feeling of seeing a stranger? Or just seeing yourself out of your own body in the 3rd person? I used to when I was a kid. Wake up to brush my teeth and just wonder who the fuck I was.

So there I am, changing in the gym locker room, washing my face and, yeah, I dunno. Probably looked pretty damn stupid standing there, touching my nose and lips but I just- fuck, I don't know how to say it right. Maybe it's some weird psychosis thing from the pills or just all the stress or something. At least the zit on my nose went away finally. In fact, my whole face was looking good. Smooth.

Still tingling. Could feel my dick move a little when I thumbed my lips. Felt good. Just slid my finger along my lips slowly and shivered. Felt real good until I remembered where I was. Acting like a fool in front of the guys.

The good news is, I'm still losing weight. Shirt was a little loose on me and I had to pull the strings tighter on my shorts.

Think I gotta take a few rest days, though. Kinda struggled with some of the weights and where I should be at with them. Had a bro come over to spot me on the bar. I was fuckin' red in the face from shame. I swear to god, some of these fuckers are on steroids. I thought I was doing well and bulking up a little. Well, mostly losing weight and building up some muscle. These guys, though? These assholes are built.

After we were done, I asked him how he did it and he lied through his teeth. Just working out, my ass. Still, impressive. Took a breather between sets and watched a group of them moving through the stations. Just so effortlessly. Man, I need to up my game that's for damn sure.

Kiera never said it out loud since she'd know I'd be pissed but these doped out fuckers were always her type. I guess I could kinda see why. She's pretty tiny and any of these guys could probably wrap one hand around her waist and pick her up. She loved being the little spoon.

Gotta remember to watch where I am. Sat there with a thousand yard stare and I probably looked like a fucking tool. Just, my body still feels good, you know? And, sitting there, in the middle of all the sweat and muscles and women in yoga pants, I could feel my dick actually getting a little hard. All the endorphins in the air or some shit. And the women.

I should call Kiera tonight. I miss her a little bit.

Sunday, January 21st, 2018

I'm going to make a doctor's appointment tomorrow. There was blood on my shirt when I woke up. Took a second to notice but my fucking nipples are bleeding. Well. Were bleeding. Some dried blood on my chest and nipples.

My chest is sore, too. Massaging seemed to help (and, okay, felt kinda good) but something's gotta be wrong. And while I'm listing off the damage, my neck hurts but I think that's just my shitty pillow again. Tossed and turned all night. Weird dreams but I can't remember them now. Just woke up sweaty and sore and bleeding from my fucking nipples.

I don't want to go out today. I feel gross and tired and I'm in a shitty mood. I thought these damn pills would be out of my system by now but I still want to just cry like a fucking pussy.

I'm so sorry, Kiera. For all of it. I just don't know what's wrong with me.

Monday, January 22nd, 2018

Hey Diary,

I'm sorry I told you to fuck off at the beginning. I'm starting to feel like keeping a journal is the only thing keeping me sane.

So. Here I am in the bathroom at work.

Do I have to shit? No.

I just- I just keep getting overly fucking emotional. I fucked up a pretty big order with a customer this morning and got yelled at for it. I couldn't get angry back like I always do. I felt the anger but then my ears started burning and my face got all hot and-

I had to bite my lip when I felt the tears starting. Hard. I had to bite hard and blink and just nod my head and take it until I could get up and make a fucking beeline for the bathroom.

Just finished crying as quietly as possible. God fucking knows now is when Chuck would stop in to check on me. Couldn't fucking handle it right now if he did.

My chest still hurts. I keep trying to massage it but it's tender and my nipples are sore now. I had cotton balls taped on my nipples because my shirt is weirdly loose and it hurt every time the shirt touched them.

Gotta get back to work.

What a fucking shitty day.

I just want to snap at every little damn thing. And then cry about it. So here I am in bed, Diary. TV's on and a glass of whiskey on the side table.

It's freezing outside but I dunno. I'm feeling way too warm. Just sitting here in my underwear in the middle of January. I don't feel sick or anything; just kinda warm all over.

Those pills are calling to me. It was easier in college. Drugs fucking everywhere but I stopped taking after I moved away and lost my connections.

It was just such a shitty day, you know? And the high felt pretty damn good. It'd help take the edge off and let me relax a little.

Alright, Diary. You convinced me.

Washed the last two pills down with some whiskey and now I'm sitting waiting for it to work. I think I'll check around for a dealer after this. Some dumb college kid looking for money or something. They're always-

Oh. Oh, there it is. Yeah. Fuck.

Hard for me to describe exactly, Diary. Lemme see. My face first. Like. Uh. That shiver you get right before you get goosebumps. Only electric and warm at the same time. Running my hands along my face makes me wanna squirm a little and even my useless dick feels it.

But my lips. God. Mostly right there. I love touching them. Feeling my touch on them. Tracing them with my finger and feeling how full and sensitive they are.

Now I can feel it in my toes and fingers. And the tips of my ears, I think. My hot breath on my fingers sends a shiver down my spine. Fuuuck. I can feel the goosebumps down my arms.

I'm back again. I took a second there. Look. I get what Dr. Swalley wanted. She just wanted me to write down all the thoughts and feelings and shit I had. Just for me. Nobody else is gonna read this crap. It's just for me to have someone to talk. To work through my shit without worrying about someone judging me. And I fucking know you won't judge me.

One of the best things I loved about X was how everything felt fucking amazing. Me and the girl I was fucking at the time. I wanted to just fucking touch her and have her touch me. Sucking and licking her was amazing when I was on it.

And let me tell you, this is even better. I put my finger in my mouth and it was incredible. My tongue was all itchy in that good way I can't explain and my fingers were just alive with sensations. I couldn't stop just rolling my tongue over and over against it.

It was enough to make my stomach ache. Grabbed my dick and pulled at it hard. Fucking frustration. It leaked a little again.

I- I think I got some in my mouth.

I mean, it's just mine so what the fuck ever and I didn't even notice until I was sucking on my fingers against.

It was salty, Diary. I wasn't paying attention and tasted something and it took me a second. It wasn't bad or anything. Just different. Rubbed it on the roof of my mouth a little until it was gone.

God, I miss masturbatnig. My balls ache and my stomach hurts but in a weird way that kinda feels good.

It's moving now. The tingling. From my fingertips to my arms and down my chest. And my legs! Oh fuck, they feel so good right now. I can't stop rubbing and touching my thighs. Hold on.

I took the cotton balls off. My nipples were throbbing. They look okay, I think. Just really swollen. Sensitive.

Why did none of my fucking exes ever play with my nipples? Why didn't I know men's nipples could even be sensitive? Because they are. Kinda hurt to just touch them so I got my fingers wet a little. Still feels really good to suck on them, tbh.

Maybe two pills was overkill but I keep getting hot pulses down my back and chest and everything feels fantastic. Even better than that first night. I should've kept one pill or taken a picture so I could find out what they were and get some new

Shit. I got distracted. Anyway. Wet fingers for the win. Felt really good on my swollen, hot nipples. Getting excited just thinking about it again. Just slowly circling them, pressing them down a little, pulling a little, sucking on my fingers to get them wet and doing it all over again. I'm abso-fucking-lutely getting Kiera to do this when she comes back. Makes my guts ache in a good way.

I started getting a little hard again so I tried masturbating while playing with my nipple. Eyes closed, biting my lip, breathing hard, pinching and pulling and rubbing and I almost came. Almost. God, I could feel the edge of it and even that was an incredible sensation - getting so close to getting off but not able to do it.

My chest hurts, tho. Fucked with my nipples too much, I think. Gonna massage myself a little and call it a night. Thank god for the pills.

I CAME!

It was just a little and I still didn't get hard but, Jesus Fucking Christ it felt soooo good.

I was massaging my chest - just kinda squeezing and rubbing the muscles and it felt great. I was just doing that with one hand and touching my legs with the other and I got a semi. Got my fingers wet again and kinda played with my nipple while massaging myself and tugging at my junk. I couldn't stop moving my legs. My whole body was on fire! I had to cover my face with a pillow because I was breathing too loud and strong and it was embarrassing, you know? But I could feel it coming, finally, after so many days.

Fuck, Diary. FUCK. I came and it hurt deep in my balls. Hurt and felt so good that I fuckin' jack-knifed right there in bed and yelled out. I almost ripped the sheets grabbing onto them and my whole goddamn body shook from it. Fuckin' blue balls.

Tired now, though. Just sitting here in the afterglow of it. Floating. It wasn't much cum but I can feel it on my leg. I finally got off. Thank Christ. Sleepy.