Abel
I haven’t jerked off in a week and a half.
A whole fucking week and a half.
One of my favorite pastimes, on its way to being long fucking forgotten.
You’ll go blind fresco , I could hear mami nag. But she isn’t here…right?
“Fuck off,” I grunt into my pillow, knowing that if she were here, she would’ve slapped me. Hard .
In a few days, I’ll be transferred to an inpatient ward, among the other freaks and psychos.
Meanwhile, I can’t even manage getting a chubby these days, not even a good ol’ morning wood. It’s too cold, my hands are too dry, and I don’t have a fucking lick of privacy here. They keep my goddamn door open all day, force me out of my cot and into little therapy groups every hour, and check on me multiple times a night.
It’s the worst cockblock of my entire existence.
On the other hand, I could be worrying about my next meal instead. Or how I’d manage to stay warm in my car all night.
Perspective, I think to myself as I roll over in this hard ass cot. Footsteps come down the hall, and just for the hell of it, I stick my hands down my pants.
The sound of hands clapping together makes me jump.
“None of that, you. Or I’ll have you put away.”
I don’t know what that shit means but it’s enough for me to quit fucking around, even if the smirk on my face doesn’t quite match the action.
Wherever I end up, it can’t be any fucking worse than this place.
Whatever this place is, anyway.