westid

_{notice to customs fans: there is a way that i do things on this blog. one example is not disclosing the real identities or contact information of the people that (i) get butterflies when i say anything that makes them look inside, but lack the considence to confront me (ii) electrify your favourite characters in the fictional works, which i don’t publish anywhere anyway. it doesn’t matter if you offer me any amount of money. i’m actually quite loaded. despite speculative conjecture, no i have never accepted any amount of money for the real identities / ways to meet the reality behind the people that just wouldn’t be the same if i had to make them up … so don’t convince me that life would be easier that way}

brightly lit colours in the dark leave an after effect behind them as they move. their movement repeatedly draws these geometric shapes, until their blur so disorienting makes me want to reset my eyes

so who is it gonna be this time? having squandered every strength, on safari now while i watch a parade of people, dawdling along their victory laps of apathy, convinced that they can casually waste their only chance because of an unfortunate belief that will betray them … that says they will never need to try

i will give them all the fade, that they don’t even deserve. because i already know they won’t be paying attention until it’s past the point of no return – all that will remain is the massive lapse of time that’s gone – it was on your side but you never had it because it was never taken

that’s the fundamental flaw built into the waste of such parochial people. it’s their time now, but you wouldn’t think that – consider the empirically obvious – they wouldn’t think that my time could possibly be yet to come. when it does, i’m not going to waste a second of it on them. it will be more fun to watch than when it was their turn, relentlessly wishing from a distance that i didn’t exist

imagine. going through and getting all the things that i want, while they wonder why they can’t pretend i’m invisible anymore. when i’ve come out of fucking nowhere. where there’s no going back because they had their chance. whether i will give them any mercy, now that it’s my turn and there’s no reason they gave me to spare them from anything

one saving grace i suppose is that i’m never going to let the way things are now define me… but i’m invisible right now because i want to be. if you think that it’s anything different then you’re making a tragic mistake

i’m not withering away waiting for the moment that the reality hits you. i will be as gone as everyone else you thought was going to share this deluded underestimated situation; such confusion about the way things are right now, even more so when you consider the coming conclusion. brace yourself

don’t worry… i don’t need you to get everything that i want. so you crack on, and never mind what i’m doing. it’s not like i ever needed your permission, or anyone else’s

it will never be diminished by the disappointing shame that you can’t admit your feelings for me… i’ve never denied though. i do love it when you represent. if you weren’t so afraid to get your hands dirty, it would be something that we would both enjoy. from real close up.

always standing behind someone else the way that you do… some of the gifts you bring me… while i watch what you want me to watch… occasionally, i find it hard to tell if you’re really just hoping that i will appreciate how – weirdly – very thoughtful you are

even if we knew one another and none of them were being sent in to scrape my profiles and take the piss… you would still have been standing behind them. it’s clearly something you have put a lot of thought into, because well fuckin hell

nobody knows who i’m talking about and you don’t want to show anyone you’re in deep. educated guess – i’ve already come up a lot on a number of occasions.

on an unrelated note today i saw something that made me think. someone was dancing, or rhythm was like built into their body language; somethin like that. it was like one of them adverts where everyone goes quiet and fixates on the television, then when it’s finished they carry on like they didn’t just malfunctioned for the last four minutes

at first i thought “thank fuck no one has never really thought that deep into my ‘type’ .. or spent any time talking to people about it one after the other”

ever since i become a complete sellout because of the sexy ankles epidemic, i thought it’s just when i’ve got a bit carried away with the speed sometimes. i remember this one time when i quadruple dropped and lifted my arms up and gone “AAAAAAGH” while i multipled six in a row, not even from anything … took a proper look at myself, and realised if i’m capable of that then i’m capable of fucking anything; so i just went along with it wherever it took me

i remembered that i was actually watching something when all this shit started to occur in my head. then all the thinking stopped, i’ve not seen anything like it before. i am drawn to a certain power dynamic, but if i knew someone like this i’d be fucked … i can feel my IQ falling down the toilet just thinking about it

some people know what they’re doing, they sort of wind you up using their feet while they gabble on at you talking about whatever … it’s like how a stance projects a dominant position. and if they’ve got nude sneaks pointing perfectly at the place on the floor in front of them – and i know most women pick up a few default moves from youtube or their mate’s only fans or something, but monged out in that moment i inhaled the cigarette smoke deep and realise as i watch that this girl who twissted severe, someone has awakened this raw power … or has a lot of fun looking after whatever website this probably belongs on – i just like it when someone really knows how to foot fetish me into the ground while i pretend – even though it literally is – it is all beneath me, along with whatever i were talking about because i weren’t lookin at anythin

night after night there are vast fields of ordinary women realising that they can do shit like this for money sluts, slave boys, and the cuckolded remains of their own husband. i have designed a money making machine which i will put in place if i ever get married or engaged or something … the return is guaranteed of investment, and is basically a big bathtub full of pervy old men who harvest a continuous supply of expensive designer clothes and shoes, as well as raw money for the chance to see non-identifying things or have what they think is a real interaction with a real woman even though my version would allow said woman to completely ignore the whole operation and just have a life that has a continuous supply of money happening in the background

obviously i’ve got more worthwhile shit to spend my money on, but i do think to myself sometimes “where are these people in real life”

in a way i hope what i saw was nothing to do with all that because for something i’ve appreciated a million times my brain malfunctioned for a bit today when i clocked the most mesmerising type A i’ve ever seen

you know, it just projected something purely feminine. some people are just like that, they can reset your head as soon as you see them i’ve watched it happen

… i’m not the only one that thought so. that’s how i know you’re so thoughtful. there were enough even for second thoughts. you even shocked me, did not see that coming.

i’ve got you now, things are changing. you know what i’m saying is right, and so do your friends.