My Special Neighbor

She is my neighbour from my previous apartment.

She moved into that apartment a month after me. We never really met for a while because as an introvert, I strategically only leave the house when there is no chance of me meeting any of my neighbours.

The first time we met, I was from the mall and was a tad bit tipsy. I passed her door before getting to mine. Her door was open and she had a party. My tipsy self thought it would be a good idea to go say hi at that moment. I didn’t lock my door because, for some reason, my brain thought that the anxiety that ensues from leaving my door open would stop me from spending too much time at the party.

I knock on her already open door and she receives me. I introduce myself as her neighbour. Turns out she already knew that. She invites me for a few shots. I get in, and one of her guests offers me his space on the couch, she brings me tequila and shot glasses and introduces me to the immediate guests.

I take a few shots and wanted to leave but she insists that I stay. I promise to go lock my door and be back. I go lock my door and join the party immediately after. The introvert in me showed up with cigarettes. I don’t mind cigarettes but I don’t particularly enjoy smoking them. They come in handy when I need a break from humans at a party. It’s easier for people to understand “I am going to smoke at the balcony” compared to “I am going to the balcony because there is no one there and I need space from humans”.

After a few minutes of saying hi to people I did not know, I go to smoke. A gentleman joins me, he was smoking so I did not mind his presence. 10 minutes later, I decided to cut my night short and go sleep since the conversation I was having with my balcony mate involved him trying to figure out what was wrong with me as a woman.

I go say bye to my neighbour and she decides to walk me to my house and hug me goodnight.

Fast forward to two weeks later, she invites me for dinner and drinks. We get to know more about each other. We are both developers. We laugh about my resting bitch face that stopped her from ever saying hi to me whenever she saw me. She tells me that I am nicer in person which makes me smile. When the drinks kick in, she tells me that I am hot and respectfully asks if she can kiss me.

Is she beautiful? Yes. Is she hot? Yes. Is she smart? Yes Is she sexy? Yes. Does she have a beautiful personality? Yes. Am I attracted to her? Yes. SO, WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY “NO” WHEN SHE ASKED TO KISS ME!!!

Now the thought of kissing her is in my head and that is all I can think about. After about an hour, she asked if she could kiss me again. I nodded yes and our faces very naturally moved closer to each other. I got lost in that kiss. Everything disappeared. She was the only thing that existed. I have never had a kiss that passionate and that intense that all my problems disappeared.

With both her hands on my neck, she detaches slowly from my lips, her hands still in place, she looks at me and asks me to spend the night. I nod again because however much I tried, I could not let the word “yes” out of my mouth even though all I wanted to do was scream it for the whole world to hear.

We went to bed, and she helped me remove my clothes, made sure I was comfortable and then she got on top of me. I was not prepared for this. All she needed me to do was lie down and spread my legs. She had toys that I had never seen before. I lost myself in her which is something I had never done while having sex with a man. I felt safe. I felt special. That night, she existed to pleasure me. This feeling was foreign to me and I loved it. Sex with a woman hits differently.

She was happy to go on all night but for some reason, I felt guilty. I did not deserve that level of pleasure without giving anything in return. We cuddled all night and she made me juice in the morning which was quite helpful with my hangover.

She was the most overwhelming experience I have ever had.

Saved by a drugie

I am using drugie as a term to mean somebody that uses hard narcotics but is not an addict. Is there an official term for that? Comment if there is one.

High enough (on Absolut Vodka) that I am looking at my keyboard to make sure that I am typing the correct thing. I am a lot slower at typing than usual. I have also been confused by the fact that the font I am using has small caps “L” and caps “i” looking the same. I also just checked to make sure that I did not throw the cigarette filter/butt on my carpet. Yes, I am smoking in the house and spraying lavender air freshener afterwards because I cannot stand the smell of cigarettes when I am hangover (a condition I anticipate to have tomorrow). I am just glad that I can actually type. If this article is shit, I will delete it as soon as I wake up hoping that I will actually remember that I posted something. Hopefully, it wont become one of those posts where I delete everything midway and decide not to post (I do this a lot). I was once told that I exist in the wrong continent because of the things I write about and I think that statement affected me more than I would like to admit. Are there specific things I should aviod writing about because I am African? Currently listening to Gary Barlow’s Back For Good. This will be relevant at some point, I promise. Give me a moment to convert the song to mp3 so I can listen to it on loop using VLC player.

I got to go pee then will be back.

I am now back. Don’t you love the JLS harmonies?

My neighbour gave me something called crystals a few days ago. It was a very little portion mixed in my Tanquery gin. She gave me a quarter the crystals of what she had (she crashed them into powder first). She was very happy after taking it (about 45 minutes after taking it) and our two people party ended because she got horny and went to fuck my other neighbor, which I encouraged her to do because she asked to kiss me more that once. I said no even though I wanted to kiss her back. Not sure why I did that. She is attractive and we happen to like a lot of the same things. Food for thought, I guess.

I was talking to a religious practitioner yesterday. He told me about how most humans are okay with giving themselves to something that takes control of them. This is what I have been doing all week; drinking vodka and being in another world. Since he is a Christian pastor (I think. He is very rational compared to other religious people that I have interacted with), he specifically talked about church. He said to me that people in church give themselves to the pastor and to the worship team. I give myself to alcohol. My neighbor gives herself to crystals (I still do not know the chemical composition but I will let you know as soon as I figure that out). Do we all, every once in a while just want to give control of our lives to something other than ourselves be it religion, drugs, work etc (pick your poison)?

He (the religious practitioner) mentioned that I always excelled at being free which turned me into the villain of the family (he has known me since I was little. I have also always done what I want when I want and I avoid showing weakness as much as I can). I didn’t realize that this is what the world saw in me because I have not felt free or in control this past week. I called all my friends (5 of them) before deciding to do something drastic. I thought that if my life ended, I would be free of the suffering. I just have to stop existing and I would be okay. I ended up at my neighbour’s because I needed someone to talk to and all my friends were unavailable. Thought of ending my life but became a pussy when it got to actually doing it. I think I like living, even when I am at low points, I am happy that I still choose life :).

I am smoking again after three months of taking a break. The head rush feels different. I am not sure where my head is at. Work is perfect, I got into my dream school in London and I am getting along with most of my immediate family. So, what the fuck is wrong?

While talking to my neighbor, she hugged me and thanked me for randomly showing up at her house. She thought talking to me made her feel much better. It may sound stupid but if one person felt better because I was just there to listen, then maybe my existence is somewhat of use.

I am not getting as high as I would like to be but I guess it works for my typing. I also realise, this was my last resort because sometimes, I get a few comments that are actually uplifting. (I just looked at my ceiling and was staring right at my chandelier. If it broke, part of it would pass through my right eye and that would be a complication that I choose not to think about right now. I clearly am not courting death).

Feelings after vodka

That first sip that goes down your throat, feels a little uncomfortable and irritating. It stings but you don’t care because you are waiting for the reward. That first sip hits to specifically remind you of why you should take the next sip. It’s a tipsy wave that comes and goes in almost a second as if teasing you and you are back to normalcy sooner than you hope. You immediately stretch your right hand to pick up your glass and your left hand to pick up the vodka bottle with 47 per cent alcohol. This time you pour a double shot. It tastes like shit but you are after that amazing tipsy feeling that seduced you only after one shot and left you yearning for more. What a bastard!

You take some water and pour another double shot. You worry about the speed at which you are drinking and decide to dilute it with water so you can sip it slowly. It doesn’t taste like shit anymore and you claim your status on the table of responsible alcohol drinkers.

You sip slowly making sure you are still in control of your balance. You start to feel good. He suddenly shows up in your thoughts. Who else would be better to share this feel-good moment than with him! You think about all the things you would love to tell him for no other reason except that you would want him to know every part of you. You think about the last time you saw him and that passionate kiss that is still very fresh in your head. Sigh!! You finally admit to your tipsy self that you miss him.

He’s different and sometimes he makes you uncomfortable but you like it. When around him, things that were once absolutely scary to you don’t seem scary at all. These are your selfish reasons for wanting him around. You are changing for the better, they may look like trivial things to someone else but only you know that this trivial experience if applied to other parts of your life, will move you closer and closer the kind of human you wish to be.

Your heart warms and you imagine that if he was there, you would stretch out your hands and touch his face, your fingers on his temple and the soft part of your palm on his cheek and look at him without speaking but your eyes will say, “I am glad I met you. I am glad you exist. You are a fine collection of atoms and my only hope is that you are getting as much from me as I am from you”. You know you will never utter those words but you hope that someday, he will be able to read your eyes.

It’s almost been three hours. You stand up to go empty your bladder and realize you are about to lose your balance as you walk. You empty your bladder, then head to the kitchen to have some water. You take painkillers hoping it will stop the pending headache. You go to your room, get naked and jump into bed. You whisper a good night and his name afterwards then make sure the last thought in your head before you sleep is of him just looking at you and not saying anything because his eyes tell it all.

Another weird day

The hormonal shit happening in my body is on a whole new level. I snoozed my alarm clock for a bloody three hours. Thank goodness I did not have any work backlog. I do have a presentation tomorrow. The point of waking up early was to go through my documentation. I have to make sure there are no mistakes, add any new information and master that shit because I cannot look like I do not know what I am talking about during the presentation. I did engage in one of my guilty pleasures before sleeping the previous night hence my shameless snoozing. Hell, I do not know how my guilty pleasure and my snoozing are related but the two seem to be correlated.

I do actually get into work in time. I don’t exactly log in but I do reply to emails from my phone. I am working from home by the way. I do not log into Microsoft teams because being online will predispose me to tasks that I am not particularly interested in and can also be done by someone else. I am not in the mood for mundane tasks. My tits hurt too much for this.

As soon as I gather all the energy I need to work and feel proud of myself, my twatty neighbours start playing loud music from a genre I did not even know existed. I want to murder then, strangle them as I watch the life fade out of their eyes. Who the fuck plays loud music on Tuesday morning. I need to find a neighbourhood for introvert nerds. So I put on my headphones. I start playing “Portals” from “Avengers Endgame”, “All the strange strange creatures” and “This Is Gallifrey: Our Childhood, Our home” from “Doctor Who”, the David Tennant period. I blast this shit with my headphones. The decibels are enough to not harm my eardrums. Everything disappears and it is me and my work and I do not want to kill the bitches anymore.

It gets to 3 pm and for some reason, I am sad. I don’t know why I am sad. I try playing the sudoku puzzles that I had printed but it does not help. I try watching “Dr Stone” and end up getting angry at “Tsukasa”.

Its 5 pm and I do not know what to do with myself. It’s after work so I go offline. How is Marta doing?. She had a fever and has been indisposed all day. I like her because she has been nice to me our relationship has developed from colleague to friend. I am speaking for myself. I will check on her tomorrow. At the supermarket, I get myself some snacks, I am tempted to get cigarettes but I decide not to. On my way back to my place, the little devil on my shoulder urges me to pass by the liquor store and get some gin.

My feelings are still all over the place. But here I am ranting on a blog post because I don’t feel like bothering my dear friends with this information. I will instead bother you, my dear reader. I am tipsy enough to feel every single emotion. There has been a myriad of those emotions. Hope I will kill it in my presentation tomorrow which is on my least favourite topic.

HER

Error! Filename not specified.

So, we gotta talk about HER because it is a requirement that I study and I can’t do that until I write this because she has been occupying the better part of my head lately.

She is one attractive human who possesses beauty undreamt of. I would randomly see around and thought “she is quite fine-looking this human, I would love to know HER”. Then, I found out we had a few mutual friends who would randomly mention HER in passing and just like that, I randomly met HER. Then I got to have a random conversation with HER one day and damn…I was overcome with awe and wonder. I couldn’t stop listening, she is really sophisticated and witty. That had to be one of the best conversations I have had in my life. I think about it a lot.

Accidental call

One night I randomly go through my phone and I realize that I may have HER number. So, I decided to call HER. I had no chills that day. At one point, someone called me using HER phone and I saved the number. I was only doing trial and error to see if it would go through. It did go through. At first, I was a little nervous but, turns out she was also excited to hear from me. That was a lovely one hour and 44 minutes conversation. We did plan to hang out and smoke little. A vice we both share.

Smoke day

Well, I am probably not proud of all that smoking but it was totally worth it. Chainsmoking was the order of the evening. That whole time, I was learning all these new things from HER. The sapiosexual in me was receiving pleasure and satisfaction every moment of it and I watched HER getting more and more attractive the more she talked.

Another smoke day

This time, I was a tad bit anxious and to calm my nerves, I had a few shots of whiskey. She showed up. I handed HER a shot. We ended up buying more liquor and cigarettes and the rest of the night was too sacred for me to share but it involved selection of clothes and pressing delete.

The memories I got, I never want to lose. I will hold on to them for as long as I can whether I get to see her again or not. I will think about HER at least once a day and then thank the universe for bringing to me this perfect little arrangement of atoms. I am so smitten. I kinda like it. It’s a strange feeling. I got feels again, I think a party to remember this day is in order.

Match day

It’s match day. I got my water filled balloons, I got my tits and I got Kyllan. We are in my lab and we have moved most of the stuff to create space for the long awaited battle. We have our battle music “Eye of the tiger” playing in the background. I got my sporty shorts on. I got my top that has been custom made just for me by Kyllan. Thanks Kyllan. The top is a perfect fit with openings on my chest just enough to sufficiently hang out. I really do love you a little too much. Should we call M.A? He would totally enjoy this.

Kyllan calls M.A. As we wait for him to arrive, Kyllan gets a couch for him to watch from, some pizza, alcohol, juice, fries and a microphone in case he will want to yell something. So far, we know he is rooting for the tits.

Kyllan will be controlling the balloons while I will be controlling my tits. M.A finally gets here. We (Kyllan, the balloons and I) get into the ring. I jump around a bit as my warm up. I am overly confident that I will win this battle. I do not like the smirk on M.A’s face but I will ignore it. The balloons are a formidable opponent. They were trash talking me earlier and it made me so angry I really wanted to pop them then. Considering there were no rules to this match, I sort of secretly froze my tits. They are really hard right now and cold too. I have lowered the temperature of my room to reduce the chances of thawing. A thawed tit will not work to my favour. As soon as M.A gets settled, the match begins.

Kyllan has got one balloon on the right hand and another on the left hand. He starts with the one on the right hand, raising it so high and releasing it on my left tit. Shock on them, the balloon immediately burst after landing on my very hard frozen tit. I start to laugh maniacally. M.A looks a little shocked. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy. His money was on the tits though so, he won’t be losing anything.

Who’s the shit??? I am shit. Try trash talking me now you little wanker. You are dead and torn. I am alive and kicking. You couldn’t even put up a fight. You were never a match for my hard tit.

The left balloon does not like what he just saw. I taunt him. “Want some of that??” Kyllan gets a little worried. He has never seen that side of me, and neither has M.A. I am on fire. Kyllan has become a little attached to the left balloon that is now mourning his boyfriend (turns out the balloons were gay and in love) and has decided that the match must end as he cannot watch the death and mutilation of another balloon. I feel a little bad for the now single balloon. Later in the day, after thawing my tits, I will write an apology letter. I would rub him but then I would get sued for rape which is not good. I would definitely spend the rest of my life in jail as that will be a hate crime against a minority.

Later on, M.A and I celebrate the tit victory by drinking ourselves silly and taking about penguins and how we can acquire a couple. I thank him for showing up. He is a pretty good friend. I wish he supported the balloons so that I could have some of his money right now.

Demo-gorgon

My anxiety has shown its head again. My permanent state of worry and nervousness with the possibility of a panic attack is not good for me right now. I need my sanity. Anxiety has metamorphosed into my own pet demo-gorgon. My demons are not my caterpillars anymore but my butterflies. The caresses of my demons play over my face, moments when I feel that it is just me and my demons especially after I am heartbroken by anything or anyone (for instance, when Ned Stark died in Game of Thrones – Oh yes…I was that intensely affected, to the point where I do not want anything at all to do with Game of Thrones. I get intensely emotionally attached to fictional characters). My demons have become craftsmen with unequaled skill when it comes to handling me.

My heart is thumping wildly. My temperature rises sharply. I was crying hysterically last night and I really do not know why I was just feeling very sad. I was in sad shape, spiritually, emotionally and mentally. I may have slipped. I allowed myself to undergo an emotional sensation, the kind that you get pleasure from and now I am suffering the consequences and I am currently writing this at a café that has really fast Internet and also googling ‘how I can be emotionless’ at the exact same time.
My emotions would kill me faster than any physical injury that does not involve veins or arteries would. I have toyed with the idea of slitting my wrists as if it were a game and then I remember that I can go talk to a therapist. I have had a couple of therapists who I owe much of my sanity.
I imagine I am one of those people who unfortunately get to feel everything quite intensely.(If feeling things intensely is actually a thing. Most people just think I pretend, especially my mother.)
I do not understand gray areas, it’s either black or white, heaven or hell, Sith or Jedi, Batman or Joker, Iron-man or Mandarin, Time Lords or Daleks, good or evil. I am ‘extreme’ personified. I overdo everything, drugs included. When it comes to alcohol, I drink as much as I can because all I want is to have a few hours of nonexistent feelings(A part of my life that I lately feel a need to evaluate). The many discordant voices in my head go quiet and I get to zombie-fy just for a few hours. I get to look at something and not feel anything towards it. It is like taking a break from myself. The drinking does come with a lot of obvious disadvantages though. I get very bad hangovers and end up wasting a whole day recovering.
I am happy and sad to say that I am no longer a functioning alcoholic. I feel as though both sobriety and alcoholism will kill me at the exact same rate. If it is not my liver, it is my brain. The happy part is mostly because I am not a social misfit anymore, but, to what end? The voices in my head will not shut the fuck up. I hear them all the time. The amount of concentration I have to channel to keep my head straight on just one thing is almost unimaginable. I find myself thinking about suicide sometimes. I don’t want to be around people. I am constantly seduced by the thought of anonymity which often shows up in my head in the form of a swan, I do not want anyone to know of my existence because that will open doors to heartbreak and a lot of annoyance. I can’t imagine getting out of the house and suffering a panic attack in an environment I cannot control. I can’t date because I have no idea what the voices in my head are usually planning for me. When I am in love, I choose to ignore the feeling and cut the one I am in love with out of my life. I feel like it is the only way that I can protect them and myself. Does this make any sense to you or do I just sound bonkers?

My demo-gorgon, if he were human, listens carefully to me more than he talks, wears nice flattering clothing that are in harmony with my taste, is clean shaven and smells like heaven, he exudes confidence, stands up straight, is quite stout and makes me comfortable with his touch. He is charming and plays me all the music that I like, he maintains eye contact while talking to me and when I get attacked, he carries me to a safe place and lets me know that he will always and forever be there for me whenever I need him. He resurrects all possible forms of exteroception in me, the tiniest stimulus to remind me of the beauty of this world. At this point, the rest of the world does not matter, it has always been me and my demo-gorgon. Just us. We will ride to hell or heaven together.

A little feeling….

Seeing you is always euphoric. You elicit all these feelings in me that I prefer to keep buried deep down where they can never be found. Feelings that occasionally show when I have drowned myself in a bit of alcohol and all the concrete and blocks that make my very highly erected walls shatter into tiny pieces. You send electric shivers down my spine and suddenly everything around me disappears and all I can see is you and you alone, all sound is lost to me and all my senses stop to work except for my eyes. Beauty personified is what you are. I would totally have you before I choose any drugs. Move over alcohol, a new love is in town. My loins get a little frothy and then I remember that I have to practice self-control and not jump on you and probably touch your will and then find a room to go to because both of us will be so horny. I first make a cheeky smile from ear to ear. Then I steal glances because I do not want you to catch me staring. All I can think of is kissing you over and over again and making love in the middle of the night while our friend is blacked out on the floor. We both hope he does not wake up while I am on top of you with my tits bouncing and I try so hard to suppress my moans while hoping that if this ever happens again, I will not have to suppress anything. I get high on the thought of me touching your abs, your hair and you running your fingers down my back.

I don’t even know if this will happen again but I am so happy right because, for the first time after a very long time, I felt something emotional. It’s good to be human again.

Time to chat with my demons

So, I feel like drowning myself in water. Not deep water, shallow water. I love being underwater. Shit looks so cool under here.” I wanna drown just a little. I do not want to die. I like to think that the universe still needs me alive. I just want to feel something to remind my self of my humanity. Just getting naked and pretending to drown me in water. I always feel some kind of freedom in nudity. Skinny dip underwater a little hoping that my neighbors are not at home.

I need a different environment from the real world. My reality is quickly metamorphosing into a figment of my imagination. Perhaps I’ll see things clearly if I get to that point of near death and have my life flash right before my eyes. I wonder what it is that I will see when this happens. This crappy feeling I have is driving me crazier than I am used to. I feel nothing at all and this worries me as I could be turning into a psychopath. I am finding it really hard to handle this madness. Cutting myself has not been working so far. I need something bordering on the extreme. I am kinda always crazy, it just never gets to this point. I might need a psychiatrist. This is a point where I drink the whole day and watch the extremely violent action and horror movies… I myself even know that I need help as soon as possible. Action movies are the most awesome part. The movies are even cooler to watch when I am high. I question whether it is the alcohol that is making me inebriated. It is definitely the alcohol though because I am fucking indifferent to everything else.

My life is just sad. “Do you want a drink? You can join me. I could really use a buddy right now even though I feel like I do not need one. I am starting to be a hazard to myself” Let’s go crazy together. The reason for going crazy…… I ain’t really sure. “Not sure?” “Yes yes yes.” I lack words to explain. I have no clue how I got to this point. I have this feeling. Crappy it is. I kinda like it. It’s a new one, I have never felt this one. I want it to go. I miss the normal me.

I actually regret visiting that last therapist I had. I now remember. Everything began going downhill after I visited her. I did exactly what she told me and one month later, this is me, about to drown myself. I thought to talk to a stranger who knew nothing about me would help but it just made things worse.

I should in back to handling my shit and fixing things. It works for me. It mostly involves self-destruction which is just as bad as that therapist. I wish I had everything in my life figured out. My demons just love me too much. They do not want to go away. Every once in a while I make love to my demons which are exactly what I should do.

Pretending to be okay is having a debilitating effect on me. Fuck this…… I will just walk to a random citizen and go like, “The smile on my face doesn’t mean am happy, it just means I’m way too drunk to change my expression and I would like you to slap me back to reality.”

Falling in love

So, we were at this really big house with a lot of expensive shit. There was a party of some guy with pink hair and a body that could kill a bevy of dames. It was the first time Sophie had attended a party and I was feeling a little bit guilty for introducing her to alcohol. She is surprisingly a very responsible drunkard. She fell asleep as soon as she got a kick from the vodka. I was hoping she would misbehave a little so I could have content for this post. Bad behavior is encouraged. Anyway, I was still awake but totally hammered. This chicken then walks in and I am like ‘What a beautiful chicken!’. I had never seen something more magnificent in my life and the chicken walked up straight to me and I felt electricity down my spine. It was the first time I had ever been noticed by a beautiful chicken. Most of the time they just quack and walk away. My heart skipped a beat and the chicken just walked up to me, jumped on my lap then on my tits. She then held both my cheeks with her wings and moved her beak closer to my mouth and we started kissing and we have never stopped since then.