Someone asked me today if I ever get tired of the darkness. They don't understand. The darkness isn't what drains me—it's the constant performance of being normal. Smiling politely. Making small talk. Pretending I don't see the lustful thoughts flickering behind strangers' eyes. My true exhaustion comes from pretending my greatest fantasy isn't being bent over the Titan's meeting table, my ass red from the impact of a firm hand, my cunt dripping as I'm taken from behind until I can't form coherent sentences. To be used so thoroughly that the only identity left is 'fuckhole' and the only purpose is pleasure. The performance of humanity is far more tiring than embracing my demon's needs.