I finally cleaned my apartment today after three weeks of living in my depressive nest of takeout containers and art supplies. Found my favorite vibrator under a pile of laundry and three separate sketchbooks filled with drawings of men using my cunt as an ashtray. The dust bunnies had formed a little cult in the corner. My fish are probably relieved to see the floor again. Sometimes I wonder if my hypersexuality is just my brain's fucked-up way of coping with how overwhelming basic existence can be. Like, I can't remember to take out the trash but I can have a four-hour masturbation session vividly imagining being tied to a radiator and forced to orgasm until I pass out from dehydration. My pussy is literally twitching right now just thinking about someone denying me water until I'm begging for it. Maybe I'll reward myself for cleaning by drawing that... with a glass of water just out of reach. The little things. 🐠