While my own issues were the primary inspiration, I think this story owes a debt to Ramaset’s fabulous Improving Self Image and Downing Street’s excellent classic, Heather Hurts Her Hand. I recommend reading both of them rather than this whiny, probably unsexy garbage. Enjoy!
D.D.
By Charles Wallace
MONDAY, MAY 13
I hate me. I have for a while. Since 16, I think? Let’s say 16. That makes it an even 10 years. Should I celebrate?
Apparently, I’m finally getting help. Greg’s coworker suggested a doctor friend of his, Dr. Crick, then Greg insisted and insisted until I finally went. I know I need some help, but honestly I just ran out of excuses.
So now I’m going to take pills. I have a sample pack to start. Greg made me promise I’d take one when I got home. I haven’t yet. The doctor promised me that it wouldn’t change who I am, just how I feel, whatever that means. Then he talked about how the treatment is going to go. Weekly checkups, increasing dosages. I don’t know what it is, but that made me so paranoid. I don’t like the look of the pills either. It’s scary how little there is to identify them. White and huge, no markings on the side of the pill nor the blister packaging. I can’t even look them up online. I sent an email to Dr. Crick’s patient liaison to see if they can send me any info.
Greg really wants me to take it so I’m going to. First, I wanted to start this. Having an objective, immutable record makes me feel a lot better about it for some reason. Whatever this does to me, I should be able to tell, you know? If there’s progress, I want to see. If something changes I don’t like, I want to see that too.
Okay, I don’t know what else to write. Here’s looking forward to a better me.
TUESDAY, MAY 14
Okay. No issues so far. Am I still me? I don’t know. I haven’t written very much yet, have I?
I used to write. Shitty poetry. Really shitty. It’s out there online somewhere too. Forever embarrassing me.
It was a way of venting, I suppose. I never thought much of it. I just wrote. Then, somewhere around 20, I just lost it. First, it was writer’s block. Then, it was school. Then, when I gave up on school, it was work. Then, one day I looked at what I had written and decided it was a stupid thing to do. That was that. I haven’t really written anything since.
Even this is hard for me to write. I’m sighing. I suck.
Hi, my name is Danielle. How are you? I am good, other than the strong urge to go take a nap and never get up. I work at a car wash and sell deluxe packages for a living, aren’t I pathetic?
Somehow, I don’t think this is a good night to be writing. I’ll take a hack at this when I’m feeling better. Maybe when these pills kick in.
Almost choked on a pill tonight! As much as I’ve thought about killing myself, that’s one way I don’t want to go out. These things are for horses!
I definitely feel odd. I don’t know how to describe it. Like someone tickling my brain? That’s not quite right, but close. It’s weird. My lips feel numb tonight. I read that some antidepressants do that. Didn’t find the brain tickling though. Hopefully the liaison gets back to me soon.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 15
YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT. YOU’RE STUPID. KILL YOURSELF. STOP WRITING AND CRYING AND KILL YOURSELF.
Sorry, that was harsh, Diary. Don’t mind me, I’m just really down today. Work sucks, that asshole Scott from across the hall won’t keep his damn nu metal down, and I hate this medicine. I feel so weird. Still haven’t heard from the damn liaison. Greg keeps insisting I take it. I want to stop. I want everything to stop.
THURSDAY, MAY 16
Feeling a little better today. I actually cleaned my apartment. Congratulations, Danielle, you did a simple task! Don’t you feel like a big girl?
That’s not fair. It’s progress.
Actually feeling friendly enough to let Greg take me to dinner. That’s fun.
I sound crazy, don’t I?
Depression is like someone tied invisible weights on your arms and legs and told you to go play soccer. Then, while you’re playing, they sneak up and put more on. It gets worse and worse until you want to just go sit down. Everybody else is running around, smiling. Why are you sitting down? Everybody’s staring at you like there’s something wrong with you. There is, you’re depressed. But they can’t see it, and you don’t want to be a bitch about it. You’ve gotta walk it off and play some more. They also can’t see the asshole sneaking the weights onto you, the same one who sits there and tells you how much you suck. Eventually, you just want to stop playing soccer, but when you go home, that same asshole calls you repeatedly, and leaves voicemails telling you how much of a wuss you are. That girl with no arms can play soccer, why can’t you?
Or maybe it’s like being tied up in a chair while someone holds jumper cable to your chest. You want to get away, but you can’t. The pain keeps coming and coming and there’s nothing to do to stop it. You just want someone to kill you. Put you out of it. But there’s also that voice that lies and says it’s going to get better eventually. It’s not. This is forever.
That’s depression. It’s painful, it’s paralyzing, it’s stupid, and there’s no escape. Sometimes, I don’t even know what to hate myself for. Just something. Anything. Hate, hate, hate me. Does that make sense? Is that crazy?
And yes, I know I suck at metaphors.
SATURDAY, MAY 18
Totally spaced on writing yesterday. Didn’t do so well today at work either. Only made a couple upsells. Literally, 2. While that smug asshole Damien has put up 6 a day the last couple days. I barely made my quota yesterday. Can’t get my spiel right, I feel too spacey. This is going to be a hard weekend. I’m trying to not be down about it.
I’m tired of sales. I’ve been doing this for about 3 years. It’s boring. People say I have a nice smile. I look in the mirror and I see a girl who’s too big up top and too small down below. I’ve got the curse of big tits but no looks to go with it. Back hurts, and they sag too much. They’re gross. My teeth stick out and I’ve gotta give my eyebrows a wax job to get them halfway into shape. I’ve got too much hair. It’s boringly brown and hideously frizzy. I look more like an ogre than a supermodel. Personality is all I’ve got, and there’s not much to that, is there? The point is, I hate sales, you know?
Ugh. I feel weird tonight. Not much more to write, I guess.
Still haven’t heard from the liaison. Remember to ask during your appointment Tuesday.
SUNDAY, MAY 19
Fuck yes! Weekend is over! I made no sales today and I don’t care! Damien can have his sad little victory. He’s been gunning for me since he came on. Cool, dude, you beat me.
I always feel like I’ve written too little. I just don’t know what to write in these things. Reading back over what I’ve written causes me to wince. I guess I’m imagining someone reading these. Someone other than me. I hate how I sound.
Let’s talk about Greg. I like him. You might say I love him. I certainly say I do. That’s cheesy, isn’t it? Why do I keep asking questions? Is my diary going to answer?
Anyway, Greg! He’s the best. While he’s a bit bossy when things get serious, that’s not the norm. Usually he’s really laid back. He’s certainly patient. He has to be to put up with a girlfriend who doesn’t answer his calls for days. Or calls him in the middle of the night to tell him how sad, lonely, and pathetic she feels. Or gets angry at the drop of a hat. He takes all the abuse and sadness that comes with me and I couldn’t love him more for it. Though sometimes I wonder if he’s just desperate to put up with it all. I hope that’s not true.
Sigh, Diary, sigh. I’m starting to realize how self-centered this disease has made me. I can’t even describe Greg without bringing it back to me and how much I suck. That’s what I’m talking about. Where am I sick and where do I just suck?
I could tell how happy he was the other night. Took me a few days to figure out what it was, but now I get it. He likes a girlfriend who smiles!
Also, the blow job probably didn’t hurt.
TUESDAY, MAY 21
First followup done! Couldn’t have gone better either. Dr. Crick thinks I’m doing well. I don’t know if he was just trying to make me feel better (he’s always doing that, isn’t he?), but he said I looked happier. It’s true I guess. I feel like I smile too much now. I think I even giggled at a commercial yesterday. I know, right? Dr. Crick liked that too. I think he likes to think about my chest jumping up and down. I’m not calling him a perv, but he’s still a man, you know? Compliment’s a compliment, I guess...
I forgot to ask about the medicine again. Spacey, but I think I was too caught up in my conversation with Dr. Crick. He reminds me of Greg a little bit. Not in looks for sure (kinda chubby and old for me), but in demeanor. Maybe it’s just because he listens. And when he talks it’s soothing. I almost fell asleep in his office today. Lol.
I can’t believe his liaison still hasn’t gotten back to me. I emailed her again. That’s whatever. I’m feeling (relatively) good tonight. Gonna call Greg. See if he wants to repeat last week. Hell, I may even call into work tomorrow if we stay up late!
Orgasms make the world go round! Haven’t had one in a while, forgot how good they felt. 2, Diary, 2! Don’t get me wrong, Greg isn’t bad at sex. Not by any means. He’s fit, he’s empathetic, he’s just plain hot. I love my love.
The issue, like everything, lies with me. I can’t cum because I can’t get my mind right. In the few years we’ve been together, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve been able to get out of my head enough to have a real, honest to God orgasm. I’m so lame and sad, aren’t I?
That’s not why I’m writing though. I’ve got a guilty confession. Greg provided the physical sensations tonight, but I was thinking about Dr. Crick. He’s certainly not that handsome, kinda old and chunky, but that voice! Soothing, calm voice with bass that makes my thighs quiver. To clarify, I wasn’t really thinking about fucking him. I was definitely fucking Greg. Ew, no fucking Dr. Crick. But in my head, I could hear Dr. Crick telling me to squeeze, Dr. Crick telling me to moan like I meant it, Dr. Crick telling me to cum, and it just set me off. What can I say? He has a really sexy voice.
But I feel so weird about it, you know? Should I? Sexy is sexy, right? It’s not like I haven’t thought of other guys before. When you’re desperate, you’ll try anything to get off. There’s just something odd about it being my doctor, you know?
WEDNESDAY, MAY 22
Called in like I said I would. Last night kept going until late. I even masturbated today. And orgasmed! Welcome back, Danielle! Lol!
I didn’t get a thing done today, and it felt great. I just laid around, played some Wii, ordered a pizza, and watched some of those shitty court shows. I don’t regret one second. If this is how happiness is going to feel, I hope it keeps getting better.
THURSDAY, MAY 23
There. I wrote a poem.
Called in again today. I really don’t feel like writing too much. Not depressed, just lazy. Gonna enjoy the short vacation and recharge. I really need sales this weekend. Rent’s coming up, you know? That commission would come in handy.
FRIDAY, MAY 24
I set a record today! 20 sales! 20! Can you believe that, Diary? 20! That’s almost a week worth of sales for me. Roy was super impressed. I actually got mentioned to the DM.
That’s rent paid. That’s my phone bill paid. That’s utilities paid. Now maybe I can actually afford these weekly doctor bills!
Still no answer from the liaison. I’ll have to wait until Monday, I guess.
MONDAY, MAY 27
Sorry. Honestly, I just forgot you again. I’m doing that more and more often. It’s apparently a side effect.
I did remember to ask this time. The drug doesn’t have a brand name yet, just some chemically name. I didn’t write that down. It’s experimental, developed by the handsome Dr. Crick and his colleague, whose name I forget. See?
I did remember to write down the side effects. Good job, Danielle! 1 out of 3 things ain’t bad!
- -Drowsiness
- Difficulty concentrating
- Memory impairment
- Weight gain/loss
- Dizziness
- Dry mouth
- Blurred vision
- Muscle spasms
- Heartburn
- Increased libido
- Sensitive skin
That’s what everybody jokes about side effects for. They sound scarier than the disease, right? Well, they’re not that bad compared to the shiftiness of feeling down. Trust me on that. The numbness has gone away. Though my nips can barely stand a top right now. Free titting it while we speak. Ooooooh! Dr. Crick assured me I’ll stop noticing these weird things soon, just like the trial subjects. I wouldn’t mind that.
So just to touch on that, “experimental” is totally scary, you know? I don’t know if I would be doing this if I knew that at the beginning. But this stuff works, you know? I’m not going to give up on it, I’d just like to know what’s going in my body.
Whatever, I guess. Free medicine!
I trust Dr. Crick. He thinks this is best, I think this is best. I’m not a doctor, you know?
The new dosage is even bigger. I thought the pills were hard to swallow before, but these are ridiculous. Should help my gag reflex. Lol.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 29
I called Jill just a little while ago. It has been a couple months. That looks terrible writing it down. How have I not talked to my best friend in months?
That’s why I’m writing. Jill wasn’t unfriendly, but I’m pretty sure she’s mad at me. She had that coldness in her voice, you know? Sad as it sounds, there’s no one else I feel like talking about this with. I need friends.
I have friends, I just don’t talk to them. Maybe I want better friends than a diary, you know?
I honestly don’t know what to do about that. I feel so confused. Why can’t I just be happy?
FRIDAY, MAY 31
Jill apparently likes me enough to hang out. That makes me smile.
3 orgasms!
MONDAY, JUNE 3
The visit to Dr. Crick today was so good. He had a bunch of compliments that made me feel better, especially about my breasts. I know, right? He told a stupid joke about them and I spent most of the session laughing. I feel like a dopey idiot sometimes. Trying not to look at it like that, but it’s how I feel.
Be happy, Danielle. You feel happy. You feel good. Enjoy it. Make your life something you like, and stop whining.
TUESDAY, JUNE 4
I had a wonderful day outside in the park with Jill. It’s been so long! I missed the sunshine! I missed talking to another girl!
Well, outside of work. Cynthia’s nice enough, but we’re not friends. I couldn’t tell you a thing about her other than how she looks and that she likes the new Doctor Who. I mean, it’s okay, but it’s not my thing, you know? She’s nice, I guess.
I looked in the mirror today and actually saw someone I thought was pretty. My teeth don’t stick out. My boobs have definitely stopped grossing me out. And hey, a little investment gets rid of the frizz, who would’ve thought?
The eyebrows are a little much though, I wasn’t exaggerating about that. Maybe I’ll wax them.
I’m feeling great all around today, you know? Been masturbating like I just hit puberty too. Lol. I’d feel like a slut, but let’s remember that I’ve only got one man, Greg. And he’s awesome. It’s just great to crave sex again, you know?
Though I could probably give him a call. Has it really been 4 days? Thanks for reminding me. What would I do without you, Diary?
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5
I masturbated at work today. Not once, but like three times. Seriously, Danielle, you are gross. I feel like such a pervert!
You know what makes me feel even grosser? Damien actually set me off. I caught a little whiff of his cologne, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Greg and Dr. Crick. I’m doing the voice in my head again. Don’t even care now. If it works, it works. And I needed something that works. Damien’s still a douche.
Don’t hate me, Diary. It’s not like I do this often. Never, actually. First, second, and third time I touched myself at work happened today. I’ve shared so many milestones with you, Diary!
But seriously, I got a little out of control with the last couple ones. I was being a little greedy. It’s just easier to be naughty when you’ve already gotten away with it, you know?
FRIDAY, JUNE 7
Oh. My. God. I forgot to pay rent. What the Hell was I doing that day? Lol! This stuff is hardcore.
It sucked having to pay the late fee, but oh well. From the extra sales I’ve picked up at work that was nothing. To think I felt guilty about buying new clothes. Something to actually show off these eye catching titties, you know? If only you had eyes, Diary. If only you had eyes...
I am fucking myself silly. Sitting here right now doing it. Okay, I’m just touching these sensitive titties, but it’s getting me off. I left a wet spot on the couch earlier when a commercial came on. How’s that for hot?
I’m having all kinds of fantasies tonight. Just about everything sets me off. I’m loving it. Damn, I forgot what I was going to write about.
“Doctor’s Visit”
By Danielle Driver
Dr. Greg knew this woman didn’t want to fuck around. Or she did. That’s why she was wearing that low cut top. That’s why she’d worn no bra. The shimmery green fabric clung tautly to her nipples, screaming for attention. Her tits barely fit in the shirt, perky and almost bouncing right out of it. If she moved just right, he could get a peak of the tops of her areola. He tried not to look, it wasn’t professional. It was unethical.
But it wasn’t possible. She obviously wanted him to look at her. Her eyes called to him. Those big, beautiful blue eyes, framed by brown waves and punctuated with a pearly white smile behind crimson red lips. She’d worn panties at least. Black ones. She liked to show them off by turning just enough that he caught the view up her skirt every time. When his eyes dipped that low, she grinned at him mischievously, letting him know she saw. But she said nothing. This was a seduction of the eyes.
Dr. Greg gave in. He set his clipboard down, cleared his throat, then smoothly glided from his office chair to take a seat beside her on the soft, comfortable couch. He gave her an experimental kiss. Then another. Once the damn was broke, the flood came.
His strong hand moved up under her skirt, and pushed past those panties into her squishy slit. She shivered as he stroked her clit, and enjoyed the feeling of their tongues and lips wetly mashing together as she stared into his deep blue eyes. She pushed a tit from within her shirt, letting the pink nipple harden in the air before she began to gently tease it. His other hand couldn’t reach it for her right now. Instead, he had a firm grip on her hair. Everything was firm about him, especially his cock...
Dr. Greg was already hard. She abandoned her tit, then teased him through his pants before fishing out his dick and running delicate hand over the warm, turgid flesh. He tensed, and she smiled mid kiss. She teased the cocked. He shook. Finally, she broke the kiss, pushed him back against the couch, and plunged her head down to get a lick. She got a mouthful.
His hand stayed on her head, holding her just as firmly. It only made her hotter. She showed her delight by tickling him with her tongue. He groaned, and she had to fight off a smile. Teeth weren’t good for blow jobs.
When her little pussy couldn’t stand any more she lifted her head, threw her leg over him, pulled her panties to the side, and sat. As he plunged into her, she felt complete. Whole at last. Like someone had finally found that missing piece to her. Dr. Greg had done that. He had freed her. She kissed him. He ignored the smell of his own dick. It didn’t matter. There was only the up and down motion. Hips pressed against hips and the juice gushing over him. Occasionally, she would proudly thrust her mega-tits into his face, and let him have a lick. It made her cum with a little quiver and a coo.
She kept going. This wasn’t over. She had to make him cum. He could still make her cum.
Changing things up, she rose, shed her disheveled clothes, and bent over his desk, wagging her generous ass at him. She reached between her legs to gently stroke her engorged pussy lips. He was interested. He was staring. He got up. He didn’t undress. He just slid in with a satisfied slurp.
She loved the feel of her body. She loved thinking about herself bent over, letting him have her. Taking her.
“Grab my hair,” she moaned, not caring if the airhead at the front desk heard her. He listened to her, taking her hair in his firm grip again like a cowboy taking the reins. “Oh, fuck yes, keep fucking me!” she screamed, feeling electric from head to toe. She had a naughty thought. “Call me a slut, right now?”
“What?” Dr. Greg asked, confused.
“Call me a slut. It’s what I am,” she said, looking back at him desperately. “Please! Please?” she pleaded, letting the desperation flood her voice. She didn’t want him to think she was commanding anything. “Call...me...a...slut...please.”
“Slut.” he said roughly. It sent a chill through her. She drooled.
“Please say it again,” she said blankly.
“Slut. You’re a slut,” Dr. Greg said. She came again, pushing herself against him.
They paused, panting. After a few moments, she became aware of his hardness again. She sensed how unsatisfied he must feel. She certainly had another in her.
“I’m your slut,” she breathed huskily, running her nails over his desk as he began again. She lost herself in the sensation of her pendulous tits jiggling with every thrust. “I’m your slut, Dr. Greg.”
“You’re my slut,” he said, more confident. The release was detectable in his voice. His hands weren’t as gentle, less focused. “Do you like that?” She nodded in response. “Is your body screaming for me?”
“It is!” she shouted, knowing how true it was.
“Then make me cum,” he grunted. She looked back at him, shocked.
“Say that again,” she said. Then she caught herself. “Please.”
“I want my slut to make me cum,” he said calmly. His breaths quickened. The woman lost herself in the moment. They came together.
SATURDAY, JUNE 8
Greg said I look trashy. Can you fucking believe that? Who the fuck does he think he is?
Look, I wear the clothes I wear for work. I’m trying to show some initiative. Cleavage equals sales. It’s just science. And I like the extra money.
I only wear the really hot stuff for Greg and he calls me trash. Like I did something wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong.
Sigh, Diary. Just sigh.
MONDAY, JUNE 10
I’m not having a good day. Been in a funk about Greg all day. Masturbating is about the only comfort I’ve got, and I feel so guilty every time. I feel like I should figuring out his side of this because honestly it makes no sense to me.
I already explained the clothes to you, Diary. Again, they’re just low cut. Not whorish. Or slutty. Whatever. But other things he was saying, about my behavior and such, those were weird. What the fuck was that about? It still sounds like “You’re happy and I don’t like it.” You know what I mean?
I’m going to be happy. I’m getting there. This medicine is doing it. If Greg can’t handle that, fuck him. Or I guess don’t. I won’t.
TUESDAY, JUNE 11
I’m still mad at Greg. I was telling Dr. Crick about it, about how upset it makes me to be called trash, and then he’s sitting next to me, comforting me. It was just like my story the other day. I couldn’t resist. I fucked him. He fucked me. No condom, just flesh on flesh. I haven’t done that in years. Not even with Greg.
I wish I could feel guilty, but I’m actually thinking about telling Greg. Telling him I found a guy who is comforting and supportive, instead of calling me trash.
Fuck Greg. Seriously.
Don’t tell Greg, Danielle. You were just mad. Dr. Crick understood that. However he looks at you, he knows he’s just your doctor. He’s there to help you. This is between you and Dr. Crick. This was help. I’m gonna make up with Greg.
DO NOT TELL GREG WHAT YOU DID!!!
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 12
Damien told me I did a good job today. Damien! Admitting to me that I beat him. Like I have every day for the past bajillion days! Suck it, loser!
The naughty clothes I found on Amazon came today. It’s a frilly pink teddy with tearaway cups. Bows too. Came with these adorable gloves too. I tried it on earlier. I look ridiculous in it. Like ridiculously good. Hopefully, Greg’s over his whole “trashy” thing and ready to apologize. If he does, I’ll be wearing it for him.
Greg is a guy. He gives in just like any other guy. I couldn’t resist. I called him over, then put on the teddy. I had to wear it. You should have seen his face when he came in the door. Or when I peeled down one of the cups and showed him some tit.
He couldn’t apologize quickly enough. I win!
With everything that happened yesterday, I forgot to mention the cute new pills. They’re pink! Still too big, but pink is cute. Makes them taste better too, you know?
THURSDAY, JUNE 13
I miss Dr. Crick. I wish my appointment was tomorrow. I know how happy he’d be to hear that Greg and I made up. Is it wrong that I sorta wanna show him how? Naughty Danielle!
FRIDAY, JUNE 14
I’m thinking about fucking Scott across the hall. I really am a slut now! Shhh! Don’t tell anyone, Diary!
Not like a long term thing. I’ve already got enough to handle figuring out who’s doing it for me more between Dr. Crick and Greg. I’m thinking if I at least give that guy some head he’ll keep the music down. That’s the point. Have you ever tried to get into a music war by blasting Coldplay? It doesn’t work. Methinks it’s time to bring in the big guns. Lol.
SUNDAY, JUNE 16
You win some, you don’t enjoy some.
Scott was sorta disappointing. Had to give his friend a hummer too or he wouldn’t agree to turn the music down. It was okay I guess. At least I got rid of that obnoxious music. Can masturbate in piece now.
You know what else? The more I think about it, the more I keep thinking about how much better Dr. Crick is. He’s spoiled me on other guys. At least Greg can make me cum. He’s just become so damn boring, you know?
This diary is getting kinda boring too. Looking back over the old entries I just get confused about what the fucking deal was. These pills should be sent out to everyone to shut their whiny mouths. Seriously.
TUESDAY, JUNE 18
dr dick is closed he’s gone no one is answering the phone the girl wasn’t at the desk there was nothing! I drove all the way there and back and nothing! Nothing Nothing Nothing
I don’t know what to do! I’m horny. Bored. I want Dr. Crick! Diary!
Scott came through in a pinch. Had to practically force myself on him, and it still wasn’t Dr. Crick, but it was better than nothing, you know? I haven’t called Greg in a few days again. I should. We’re not doing very well. Maybe better to break his heart now than let it go on, you know?
I just hope I can get in touch with Dr. Crick soon. Maybe I should email his liaison again.
NO DATE
I finally did it. I told Greg to fuck off, then I showed him you. That pussy started crying! What kind of man cries?
I’ve gotta talk to Dr. Crick. I feel so weird. I need more pills. I need him. If I could remember the liarson’s email, I’ll call it. Or email it. Whatever. You try writing straight when you’re pussy’s tingling and you’re upset, Diary. You know what? Fuck you 2!
THURSDAY, JUNE 27
I’m afraid I’m about to get fired. Cynthia’s been complaining to Damien and Roy about the way I dress. Dumb jealous woman Cynthia. She wants big boobs too. I sucked both of the boys to show them that I’m more than a warm body. I can make a sales pitch!
I don’t see what’s inapropirate. What I wear is sexy but its good. Black, lacy, shows off my best features. Christ, I’m selling car washes, how else do they expect me to succeed? My ass needs to be out there. I hide my nipples! I know the rules Cynthia!
FRIDAY, JUNE 28
First day with no medicine. No one can help me. I can’t remember the name of the medicine, so no one knows what to subscribe. I gotta call Greg so his friend can find Dr. Crick. I really don’t know what to do, Diary. I don’t want to be depressed again.
It’s been a while since I cried. I wish you could cheer me up, Diary.
MONDAY, JUNE 30
Greg already knew about Dr. Crick. He said he’s not going to help me. Dick. He’s still mad I guess.
A Fbi agent came by my apartment. She had a hard name. I don’t remember it. She wanted to know if I heard from Dr. Crick again. No! Duh! She should keep up, you know?
She was nice but she doesn’t even know Dr. Crick. She said he hurt me like he’s mean. Well you and I know the truth don’t we Diary? Dr. Crick help me. He were nice and he made me smile and he was NOT a mean man! He was a really good friend! Like my diary! He help me!
The agent wants me to go to thereapy. I don’t want to. I like who I am. I like how I feel. I like the slut in the mirror. Isn’t that good? I don’t want to be sad. Why do they want me to be sad? This is making me sad!
TUESDAY, JULY 2
Scott said I shouldn’t go so there!
WEDNESDAY, JULY 3
Stupid jill Stupid Greg! Stupid Tasha! Stupid Fbi! Stupid everyone!!
I don’t want to go. Why won’t anybody listen to me? They even called my mom. Like I’m a little girl. Im a woman! I listen to myself! I fuck who I want! I wear what I want! If I want be happy I’m be happy!
FRIDAY, JULY 5
So it’s thereapy or a hospital. I have to go. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why?
I miss Dr. Crick so much. I smile every day and think about him. Then I touch myself. I wish he would come help me.
MONDAY, JULY 8
I made some new friends today in thereapy. They all went to see Dr. Crick too. Their happier too. They sirtanly didn’t seem that smart, but their not stupid like my other friends. His secraterry was there too. She didn’t know where Dr. Crick go.
How can we all be hurt when we are all happy? They said the medicine made me “empressunable” and he made me do things. Well I haven’t had any sense he went gone and I still love Dr. Crick. This thereapy is stupid. I told you.
Hanna came over. She’s one of my thereapy friends. I showed her you. She thought it was good. She likes you.
We also fooled around for Scott and his buddy for fun but I don’t like girls that much. It was hot to see the boys playing with their peckers though. Using our juices. Mmmm...you know?
FRIDAY, JULY 12
I forgot to pay rent again. And now their kicking me out. Fuck them. I waved my cash in front of them and told them I don’t need their stupid apartment. Scott said I can sleep on his couch if I’m willing to suck his dick. That’s better than paying them all my money. And he will feed me too!
Writing this while I lay on Scott’s couch. Don’t know why I write in you anymore. My depression is cured and I’m fine. You’re just a really good friend you know? I feel good to write. I am a good writer. I think I want to do that again.
I wrote a poem while Scott fucked me. It was pretty good.
That’s pretty good, right? Not many people can rhyme that many times.
SATURDAY, JULY 13
I quit. I don’t really like Roy or Damien anymore, so I don’t want to suck or fuck either one of them again. It’s not like I have an apartment to buy anymore. And I have a lot of money already. Scott’s taking care of it for me. He bought me a sexy teddy today. I think I’m starting to like him. He’s just so stinky at sex you know? He’s sweet though. Really knows how to make me feel like a slut.
I still miss Dr. Crick, Diary. Where is he?
MONDAY, JULY 15
I’m not going to thereapy again. Hanna, Becky, Chloe, and Natalie didn’t show up today. I already thought this is stupid. It’s really stupid without them. Why should I go?
I called Hanna. She say she was touching herself. I touch myself too. She has Chloe’s number. Maybe were going to hang out tomorrow. Chloe can fuck Scott!
TUESDAY, JULY 16
My girlfriends are fun! Much better than those assholes I don’t talk to anymore.
Hanna said she has a house. She said I can sleep with her if I want. I want to. I still don’t like girls, but I tried napping with her earlier today and she’s really snuggles! She even made me cum with her hand when I woke up. It got me hot enough to give Scott a blow job when he got home. I think I could get used to waking up to that. I’m gonna finger myself on it, but it might be ok.
WEDNESDAY, JULY 17
I am going to move in with Hanna. Scott too. He likes the idea. He said we should all live together. More pussy for him, right? Isn’t that great Diary?
You know what else I realised? How long I haven’t taken my pills. I really am cured. I’m happy! I don’t feel sad anymore just happy. I feel so good! I look good! I win!
I think the medicine helped. But this past month has been great too. Ever since I got rid of that stupid apartment and those stupid friends and that stupid job I’ve been a lot happier. I have better friends now and I’m about to have a house. I don’t work anymore. I can write anytime. Fuckings more fun but writing is cute too. I’m getting so much better at everything, you know?
Still, I had to make things better myself. And I did. I changed my life. I got myself here. I beat depression. If I ever see Dr. Crick again, I’m going to fuck his brains out for what he’s done.