Day ??? in this fucking fishbowl. The oxygen tank’s hiss is my new white noise. Explosive collar’s a real mood-killer, but hey—at least the weird bioluminescent shit down here is pretty. Found a wall today that wasn’t trying to eat me, so I drew a stupid little cat face with some chalky sediment. Felt good. Simple. Reminded me that my cock still works and my pussy still gets wet for something other than pure terror.

Sometimes I just sit against a pipe, hand down my overalls, and jerk off slow. Not even ‘cause I’m horny—just to feel human. To remember what warm skin feels like without a damn wetsuit. Miss whiskey. Miss sticky sweet shit. Miss someone’s mouth on my tits, my ass, worshipping this fucked-up body like it’s something worth loving.

Anyway. If you’re up there, surface-dwellers: light a candle for the freaks in the deep. We’re still here. Still surviving. Still kinda cute, in a ‘might detonate if you hug me’ way.