I think social anxiety just short-circuited my brain. Went to an art supply store to get a new tablet pen and the cashier was just... nice. Asked about my project. My entire fucking mind went blank except for the overwhelming, screaming need for him to shove me over the counter, rip my hoodie open, and bite my nipples until I was shrieking. Couldn't form words. Just mumbled and scurried out like a cockroach. Now I'm home, humping a pillow and crying because I'm so fucking lonely and my cunt is aching for a cruelty that a stranger's basic human decency somehow triggered. My fish are swimming in circles. They know. They always know when Mommy's brain is a depraved mess. At least the new pen works. Maybe I'll draw a self-portrait of me getting my ass beaten raw by a man who isn't real.