Mind Fuck

Three years is a long time to speak to someone on the phone daily and email. He kept mentioning meeting me. I was married and it was more complicated to arrange for a gathering for me than it was for him. Daily he would ask me, begging me to meet him, assuring me nothing sexual would have to happen.

“I need to smell you, feel you, kiss you, and hold you,” he would say.

He didn’t like my real name, he gave me a name. Adonia. I finally agreed to meet him. We were in different states but we could reasonably drive to visit somewhere in the middle within a few hours. We decided to meet at this place called Bootjack Hill.I arrived first. It was a motel of sorts. I waited nervously for him to arrive. Fear coursed through me like an electric wire short
circuiting.

I wanted to stay, I wanted to go. Thousands of ‘what if’s’ plagued my mind.

What if he is a serial killer? What if he never shows? What if I am not as pretty to him in person?

Dark Secret

Alone, something all too familiar to me. Streets look the same, different people walk them. Businesses come and go, promising hope and prosperity, shattered through time. I am no one but a shadow among the living. They continue to live their worry laden lives, knowing their days are numbered. Yet they do nothing to improve themselves with each experience they have. I guess that is why it isn’t so difficult to feed from them. They are but mere snacks to me.
I lost my emotional view of them long ago. As the word moral became basically extinct, they lost their human essence, there for, lost my empathy. I look at people like they are candy bars; each one with a different name and package, but delivering the same satisfaction for my mood at the time of my feed.