[DD] Scribbles from a Numb-Fuck!

All this thinking keeps leaking away. I had to get those thoughts back on the page in writing. I wished for something and then lost more of the nothing. Be Careful What You Wish For... 11 May 2024

Apologies To My Dear Daily Chasers..!

In this little dose of warm sick which follows I attempt to describe how sad my life has been because of one stupid weekend of being too high.. in almost 7 years I hadn’t touched amphetamine so this one-off really fucked my head up (in the aftermath). I wanted to explain the stuff that is starting to come back to me now, like how it doesn’t even matter to me anymore that my relationship seems to be legit ‘sexless’ and it is falling apart more and more in that now we don’t even share the same bed sheets! I have a load of new issues and observations and complaints to make about my failing fucking friendship with my soulmate… but its more and more apparent that my entire LIFE is FALLING APART.

I couldn’t really address anything of that sort today in this warm sick experiment to kick start my thoughts, the processing of such and the typing of words on the page coherently. I have just vomited abuse about myself and my shitty behaviours on the page, in a rage, in an ashamed fucking cloud above my head; for us to recognise that I have had enough of drugs. I should never have posted my Bad Letter Day newsletters (which was written whilst twisted, as a first letter replying to some random PenPal victim who only asked if I still wanted to write to him) I should never have mixed work with pleasure… or pleasure with this business - because writing is my pleasure and getting wasted is the true shit business!.

Thank you in advance for all your readership supporting me still, through one bad turn after another, I do see your hearts and re-stacking, I see it all and I’m either too shy or high to thank you all personally… THIS IS FOR YOU GUYS. THANK YOU.

It’s not what you’re thinking… Unless, you’re thinking ‘here comes Chasey crawling back out of the woodwork all butter wouldn’t melt, fresh as a daisy, no explaination as to why her last post would be a speed-written engagement between nobody and not making much sense…’ if you expect an explanation,…. I wanted to give you all one. All I could muster was further reason for condemnation of the old Chasey. If you’re ready for reading such drivel… then this is just what the doctor ordered. xxxx

Thoughts were usually dripping through my mind and trickling down over the palms of my hands like in the diagram shown above. Then something I swallowed changed everything. I no longer wished to capture all or any of them and in time, especially this last week or so, I had nothing left to catch. No guilt, no longing, nothing but solemn staring hours upon hours endlessly glum and yet perfectly content at the missing pieces scattered across the floor to a puzzle that I had created myself and was whole before I tore it to bits and now nobody but myself can see it or feel it to begin to recognise whatever the fuck it was or is or should be any more. It’s the perfect fit if I were to say “picture this” and show you all to explain why I have been away and the kind of empty head space.. like a busy road with loads of traffic still passing through, in fact more than usual, in fact maybe all those fast sporty cars that you’ve been waiting for that never normally come this way.

Only the traffic lights are fucked. Like your memory, like your thought process, like your heavy brain has stopped on red but now the road ahead is purely marked by car after car because the lights there are fixed on green. I can see everything happening around me, the red flags being seen like a bull is present, in a ring. It’s like the sun has come out to play and he, my partner, has dropped his guard today, and I’m able to see his true colours and yet I can’t. My heart isn’t really beating hard, my body is shivering in the shadows avoiding the heat. My heart is in a happy place with an empty space and this fucking brain inside my self-catering solid skull has evicted the soul that couldn’t even so much as fathom where to go from there.

Since spending a long weekend intoxicated on Class B drugs and holed up at home remastering my phone’s custom settings, over and over again, drooling and foaming at the mouth every time I glanced over to the laptop on loop, my favourite girl on porn being fucked by a machine dildo.. her pussy gleans the passion from my own wet, hot and swollen hole.. too sensitive to touch, to press, to play - too good not to do the same, so I’m stuck in this weird threesome foreplay between my mind, my devices and my body… the end goal keeps on changing and I need to hurry because I can hear him cumming in the bedroom, soon he will be back in here, swinging his dripping dick in the air offering me some participation.. finally RESULT.

Only, I am far too twisted to co-operate. I cope by fucking myself alone. By fucking about with my phone. I cope by stealing extra pieces or party-putty soapy chemicals that have burnt my lips, caused ulcers in my tongue, dried to my fingers and in turn made my clit numb… I turn some music on, promise him I will come in the room with him for some fun on the next round.

He is okay, he is wrapped up with his own concentration. We are long gone, we love this warm glistening sun shining through red blankets taped up over the glass door, the blackout blinds working their magic and the heat is penetrating from inside us. He is getting all the routine jobs done, feeding, walking, entertaining the dog.

She sleeps a lot but is never forgotten about. She is well loved and looked after, we both put on a front for Lola and her little doggy needs, but it is usually easy for me to let it be he who holds the main fort. Whilst I twist and turn and turn up dirty and gouched out… tangled and torn and imbedded in my own little world.

It comes to the forefront that whenever we get high and wank and music and masturbate and maybe fuck a bit - I mean that was our full intention - it was to fuck, but we don’t because I always fuck it up a bit, I put it on hold, I fuck off alone, I fuck my own dope soul and I hate it where I am done, I have cum loads, I am spent like a fucked up junkie hoe…. and after all it’s only a bit of speed! (I did clean my office too during the mangled spangled weekend escape!). That’s the easy messy part of it. That’s the baseline to why I am feeling oh so shit and haven’t written about any of it.

This is the first daily drop on Saturday 11 May 2024 and might be the last for today as of 5:00pm UK time. It is just to say that the numbness which followed and evaporated every fluttering thought that dared enter my brain in a instant before it had chance to change or divert or even float away again, whatever it was that was washing my thoughts and stopping my wants, my needs, my cravings to speak, type or communicate properly - All that is long gone. I feel sad again and would have sold my own soul to get that back. I have let go of apathy.

I’M BACK! GOODBYE FOR NOW, AND SALACIOUS SALUTATIONS FOR MY NEXT INSTALMENT:

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