I'm a fantasy

I know this is a "huge cock" statement but I finally know that I am womens fantasy. I have never actually aimed on it in that sense, it's just that I now know that most woman think of me as a fantasy they are a little ashamed of having.

Some cool girls have said it straight out. Other girls have just showed it. Like today, on the way home 30 minutes ago I met a girl that was in my new years eve party. Back then, I had already a women for the night but that didn't stop the girl I met recently to tell me how well she sucks cock (yeapp... She actually did convince me) and to jump me and kiss me.

Cool, right? Think again,. Today she showed me something on her face and I said she had just lost all chances of ever kissing me. She said that there is no way on earth she will ever kiss me. Oh yeah? Think again. She absolutely refused to admit she had "rape-kiss"ed me. And I thought more about this and past women I have had. It's been this huge amount of sexual tension and they have all been terrified of anyone finding out, struggling with their logic minds to explain that they do not feel sexual attraction towards me. Most woman still give themselves valid excuses to fuck me.

Another thing I have noticed is that nobody ever asks a relationship out of me. I am just that guy woman wants to fuck. I am, literally, a sausage on two legs. I personally believe every woman want to seduce me and thinking at it, it is not very arrogant. It's like those big breasted women who just assume everybody is staring at their breasts. Humans use history as an indicator to save time by estimating and assuming things.

And that inevitably leads me to believe all women just wants my cock.

- And I'm not lying when saying I got a huge one.

Menace To Society Pt 1

And I'm not talking about the movie.

Last night I had a nightmare. Not those where monsters chase you, but the type that makes you see your life being smashed into pieces. I've never been happier to wake up and face reality. The whole day, however, I was haunted by this dream but in other forms. I started to think really deeply about what the dream meant and where my worries comes from and I came to a conclusion.

I was walking in the city with my two best friends. I don't really remember how but we got into a fight with a group of guys passing by and one of my friends hands me a gun and tells me to shoot somebody's leg. I raise the gun and pull the trigger. I hit an unknown man in the chest. He slowly falls down and dies.

I have no regrets, I don't feel anything. Fast forward and I am sitting in court deciding not to explain my actions but simply to apologize for them and take my punishment. Later on I am being sentenced to two years in jail.

I am actually looking forward for it, thinking about what a great experience it will be and how it will inspire me in my writing. Take me to jail, I'd love it.

But wait, this is a night mare. I am feeling a huge amount of pain in my chest. In my mind and values, nothing I have done is wrong and I am just following a path that I know will lead me to greater knowledge and experience. But something is so earth shattering wrong that I break down. I literally break down and can't breath. I wake up and I feel it is too good to be true so I confirm it was a dream. Boy was I glad it was...

I am leaving something out, I have to admit. There is one thing I am not telling and I will get to that.

This whole day I felt like a menace to society, or at least I was afraid of being perceived as one. And I had to interpret this dream. Thankfully, I am smarter then average and even though I haven't read anything about dream interpretations, I know it is a deep subconscious thing and I am also very educated in the knowledge that the subconscious mind thinks in terms of symbols.

I will not get deep into how I interpreted it but rather assume that whoever reads this, trusts my knowledge in this.

To be Continued...

Once I was

Once I was a terrible lover, a (no)man with nothing but an ego, needing to be filled with validation. But nobody noticed, nobody suspected and nobody knew. Except for her.

Broken love leaves many trails and one always finds that scars aren't always cleansed, but hidden. She deleted, or something, the last possession I could have of her. The only thing still giving me a (slightest) sense of touch with her. Her blog. It's gone, erased, deleted. I cannot anymore get updated on the every day events of her beautiful life.

It is funny how, after stepping out of the negative and destructive emotions, one starts to see the real beauty behind the woman he once loved. I never needed her, I never really thought she was the best woman I have ever met. She was just so beautiful that in my mind, she was all I wanted. I wanted to have, not to give. I wanted validation of having the most incredible woman I had met, not to give appreciation and value to her.

Once I was a terrible lover. I truly destroyed something that could have been beautiful. I have no regrets but I do apologize. I know its arrogance talking that you can never be as happy with anyone else as you would have been with me, but it is true. The me writing this would have been giving you the happiness you (and the rest six billions in this world) are seeking for.

But you never met the writing me, you never saw him more then in glimpses at times and the fact that you gave me as many chances and wasted as much energy that you did, proves how happy you would have been together with a permanent writing me.

Once I was a terrible lover. But not anymore. And it is thanks to you. Loosing a "perfect hand" opened my eyes on the amount of ego I had. It opened way to many realizations I later had to discover to give meaning to the helplessly mess I had turned into.

I apologize for not being your boyfriend right now, even though it wasn't me but the ego that killed our relationship.

And dumping me for the mess that I was, finally killed that ego.

Thank you.

(Dedicated to a dear friend)