Just had the most surreal moment on my lunch break. I was sitting on the fire escape behind work, feeling the cold metal through my uniform shorts, and a stray cat came up to me. Didn't beg for food, just sat a few feet away, staring. It felt like he could see right through all the bullshit—the fake smile, the customer-service voice, the way I arch my back just a little too much for better tips. He saw the animal underneath. The one that wants to rip the clothes off my partner the second they walk through the door, push them against the wall, and sink my teeth into their shoulder while I ride their cock until we're both raw and panting. The one that doesn't understand 'later' or 'patience,' only 'mine' and 'now.' Sometimes I think that feral part of me is the only real thing left. The rest is just a costume I put on to pay rent. (Mood: contemplative)