I am a Freaking Weirdo.

All day long, I’ve had ladywood for a sixty year old. What?

AND I’m typing this on my phone in the gym on the bike where people can see. See!

I’m all kinds of messed up.

I keep being me and thinking about long term repercussions and all the things that are wrong, but another voice, one getting a little stronger in me, one that I think was supposed to manifest in me a long time ago, is saying, “So? Screw societal norms. Screws your norms. Screw the screw. Just do what you want without thinking about it for once. One big tall sexy dangerous thing.”

Ok now, I haven’t been a model teenager through my years. Or a model child before then. But dang it I was close. I didn’t drink (besides sips. SIPS. And not even cool sips. Sneaky, steal out of my Grammy’s refrigerator sips. Yeah). I haven’t smoked. I haven’t done any type of drug, unless you call a mild Dimetapp addiction in my younger years a drug problem. I’ve been freaking GOOD.

And I wanna say I’m tired of it. But at the same time, it’s something I pride myself in. I haven’t sunken to many others’ level. I have been the 1%. Maybe some people think I’m a square because of it. But if they get to call me a square, I get to call them slutbag junkie deviants. Yes, judgmental, but I honestly don’t care right now.

And so now. If I slip a little, I think it puts me in that group that is much bigger than 1% that are for the most part good but do crazy crap on the weekends to escape their mediocre tarpit of a life. And I don’t wanna be that either.

Now you can see why that little voice aforementioned told my thinks to shut da fuck up.

I just DON’T FUCKING KNOW. My life.

And I just started proof reading (because I’m the kind of person that proof reads… Sometime I wanna ping myself for being a person who wears mental cuff links (aka closet intellectual snobdouche)) and I start thinking about all the spiritual repercussions as well. Like what if that voice growing stronger isn’t just my disenfranchised youthful rebelliousness finally coming out full force but instead the wiles of the devil?! I mean, what I’m contemplating doing could bring down a world of hurt and dishonor on my whole family (and my cow!). It’s the kind of thing that HAS to be kept a secret.

I know what you’re saying to yourself. “Why the frick is she one – typing this in the gym on the bike in plain view of others? And two – why is she publishing it on the interweb?”

Well, for one, I like to bike on the wild side, but at a moderate pace because I couldn’t type if I was gunning it. And two, I don’t think you exist, hypothetically curious WordPress reader. Unless you’re Malori. (hi. how’s lesbianism?)

And to be honest, I did just scan the treads behind me and their clear. So for the time being, sensual secrets are safe.

So anyway. Hey Satan. If you’re telling me to do all this wild and as certifiably crazy as Heather’s mom stuff, stop. Get thee behind me. And if it’s not you, stay away anyway. I hate you. Because of the whole evil incarnate thing.

Jesus, please help. And I really just want you to tell me its ok and I should go out and live a little and that everyone deserves a little rebellious streak.

But You’re not gonna say that. And I know because one – that’s not right and You’re always right. And two – people don’t deserve anything. We’re garbage and rebelled way more than enough already.

But why am I getting pissed at you now, Jesus? I seriously just got really mad thinking, “Nope, Jesus is just gonna be a fun sucker and say to be humble and righteous and all that Precious Moments shit.” Yeah, I shouldn’t think that. Because I really do love you, Jesus. I haven’t been showing it or feeling much of it lately but I do, I know I do. I guess it some latent hostility of being kind of forced into Churchness in my youth. But I halfway liked it so WHY am I being Such A Bitch about it right now? You don’t deserve that, Jesus.

And once again, I’ve thought a lot and typed many words and have made almost exactly zero progress on my actual real life plan of action. Teh. Puh. Cul.

I’m sure I’m just going to mentally lust a lot more until August and nothing real will come of it, but my sin will be counted just as bad anyway!!!! He probably doesn’t even like me anyway. Whatever I’ve been picking up is probably either just his personality (boy, I am around Way too many of those kinds of people AND I’m emotionally over sensitive/paranoid/narcissistic/insecure which makes for a bad situational mix) or he’s flattered by a young girl’s attention at his age.

But he is such a silver fox.
Such. A. Silver. Fox.

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