Self inflicted solitary confinement….

Gosh! This time it was the most amazing sex dream. An orgy with two models and a sexy twink that I follow on Instagram 😻

My God! The worst dream ever! I had been having this dream for the past few days I think…that my sister is missing. The backstory of the dream seemed to imply that she was kidnapped while we were staying in a hotel in the shady area of a town (?) (I’m imagining raped, trafficked etc). So we were worried constantly. Finally tonight I called up this cousin with whom I’ve not talked for past 7-8 years (cause he outed me to the whole family when I came out to him). In any case, towards the end of tonight’s dream I finally call him up and I tell him the thing and I literally drop down to my knees and start crying. There’s no response from his side. So I look at my phone and there’s no signal. I wipe away my tears and I’m now determined to go and inform the police finally (I wonder why we had not reported it in the first place cause it is four days now). So I go inside to tell Dad. He’s sitting on the sofa staring away at the distance. I tell him and he gets up to bring his shoes. Meanwhile I realise that we will need her photo to give to the cops. So I’m searching in my phone. And I ask dad if he has any in his phone. And he says he doesn’t either. And I say how is it possible. And then I look up at the mantelpiece and there it is, her pic which she used in her college ID Card – and then the realisation comes flooding to me that she’s been dead for the past fifteen years. Then it’s all in fast rewind-Dad sitting on the sofa, me on my knees looking at my phone call log, me in the rabbit pose crying (is it raining?), few days before we checking in to this hotel and Dad having a skirmish with some tough guys (was that what we were going to report?)-all this within a few seconds while I’m still holding my phone and staring at the pic on the mantelpiece (I’ve not seen that pic for a long time though)…. it was exactly like the movie sixth sense…I started crying  and then I woke up cause she is really dead..

And I don’t normally dream. Maybe it’s cause of the fight with mom and me back home for the weekend ( basically for the washing machine)….

Fuck…

There’s no such thing as unconditional love

I want to pack my bags and leave. And live somewhere quiet and paint.

I’m tired. 

I am two steps away from killing others or myself. It has always been a delicate balance. Bitch. Fucker.

I am not having any drought of abuses coming to my mind. Mom has talked to a teacher’s Dad asking if I can marry his daughter. And he has said he has no objection.  I’m so so so so so so so frustrated. I can go on a throwing things spree or killing them literally. 

I’m surprised that I was in a decade long relationship with a person with someone who would watch Masterchef and Big Brother 😖

My number on the adoption waiting list has fucking gone down 2 places 😡