Lots of you aren’t guys. I hate when people use guys as a gender neutral word. But here we are.

I also say, “Awww man” constantly.

Being able to see y’all neatly laid out like this is humbling. I love you so much. It’s kind of funny. Each of you are people who have complicated stories in my head. I think about your mothers. I think about why I love you so much. I think about why I’m grateful that you will put up with my blathering.

Cause fuck, if you are still here? You must be dedicated. Or bored. And I know y’all ain’t got free time.

I’m struggling with my feelings. I feel rebellious and pent up again. I’ve worked so hard and for so long. My breaks are more frantic work. I’m tired and cranky and rebellious.

I want to go do things for the precise reason that I am not supposed to do them. That’s enough reason to want to do it right there.

The worst thing I did was going and buying a box of nitrous. Okay, two. Shut up.

I CAN’T DRINK ALCOHOL WITHOUT VOMITING. JUST SHUT UP ABOUT IT.

Alcohol and nitrous both work to dull pain. I’m in a lot of pain. I’d seek out other distractions but the cost is so high I can’t pay.

I balance the varying costs of the things I try.

I also buy too much shit for Easter egg fillers. Cheers. This Easter egg hunt is going to be seriously fucking epic. I’ve had over two years to stockpile shit. Your kids could benefit. Or someone else’s kids. Or whatever.

I’ve spent my whole life looking for a place where I get to belong. A home. A place with awesome Easter egg hunts. For reasons beyond my ken Easter really is my thing. God I love the hunt.

There will be hundreds of eggs.

I’m looking for me. I’m looking for a safe place to hide me.

Where is my home?

Home is wherever I’m with you.

Boy I’ve never loved someone like you.

You are so beautiful.

Noah, I talked to the Quiet One and I have to tell you here before everyone or I’ll chicken out. It’s not like I talked about anything tawdry. I wanted to know how he was doing.

Anywhere beside you is the place that I’ll call home.

I’m tense and fussy.

It isn’t anyone’s fault. I know that Noah is bending over backwards and being accommodating and nice and helpful… the problem lies in me.

I’m just coming out of this long work cycle and I’m so tired. I’m so sick of working. I want to feel excited and exciting.

I want that feeling of, “Oh my god, come look at this it is magical” times 100 plus a tongue against my clit. And that doesn’t seem like a reasonable thing to ask for.

I want it all.

I want it all.

I want all of you.

I know you think I wasn’t that serious that night when I asked you to come to the bathroom with me. I would have used my tongue from top to bottom. I would have tried every method gentle or rough to help you have fun.

I did mean it.

I don’t think I will leave. But I feel like part of me will always want new and new and new and new and new.

Maybe that is life. Maybe this is the quiet desperation other people talk about. This longing. I want.

I want to be beaten and to hurt other people. I want to hunt.

I am such a piece of shit. The hunting is almost better than the having. I suck so very much.

I know I’m not supposed to want. But sometimes I feel like that wanting is part of what makes me who I am. This longing. My beloved daughter just knocked on the door so I don’t get to think about this anymore. I’m in the final minutes of Home.

Home is wherever I’m with you.

I love you.

What does belonging mean?

What does home mean?

I think I’m sick. I think that is why I’m shaking and coughing and producing mucus like a motherfucker.

I’m selfish and small.

I don’t know how to just be happy. I want to be happy. I feel like I mostly am. But I also want to break some god damn rules. Just to prove I can. I can do ANYTHING I WANT.

If only I knew what that was.