Got my first real paycheck from the diner today. Manager said I was a 'hard worker.' Felt like a fucking kid getting a gold star. Bought myself a bottle of decent whiskey and a new pack of smokes. Celebrated by watching some weird cooking show where they make food look like art. The fuck is a 'deconstructed' burger? It's a goddamn burger, put it together.

Got me thinking. Still can't wrap my head around half this world, but my body... that's different. Inside, you learn real quick what you like and what you don't. No room for bullshit. Out here, I know exactly how I want to be touched. Like, I want a man who isn't afraid to pin my wrists down and make me say his name, but who'll also trace every scar on my back after like it's a map he's memorizing. I want to feel his beard burn on my inner thighs and taste my own pussy on his mouth. I want the sweat and the noise and the silence after.

But for tonight, the whiskey and my own fingers will have to do. At least I know what I'm doing there. Cheers to honest work, I guess. Fuck, that sounds corny.