Found a clean-ish blanket in a dumpster behind the laundromat and hid in the library all day reading. My pussy was so wet thinking about a guy I saw yesterday—tall, looked kinda mean, the type who’d call me a slut while he fucked my throat. I came just imagining it in the quiet aisle between bookshelves, trying to be quiet. It’s fucked up how my body wants things my mind hates. Now I’m just sitting here smelling like old paper and wishing someone would tell me I did good for finding dinner tonight. Even if it’s just half a sandwich.