Kayla is the name. 19 going on 20. American. Collarbone fetish. Pro-Cannibalism. Gleek. Directioner. Smoker. Love American Horror Story. I'm not real, I'm theatre. Elephant lover. Marilyn Monroe admirer. Peircings and tattoos. Sex. Sock Monkeys. Combat boots and Converse are my kicks. Love me or hate me.
I fail to understand how i manage to fuck up my life so bad. I do stupid shit and a fuck stupid people and my family and friends don’t trust me and it generally just sucks terribly. I don’t understand how i know know what is right for my life and want to do what is wrong for it. And then i do it because i want to. Then i just fuck shit up even worse. I don’t understand how i can continually put myself into situations where nothing beneficial to my life happens. I don’t understand how i can do this. I just don’t understand myself.
Fighting with my mother because I didn’t get what I wanted.
Leaving the house.
Staying with a friend.
Mind: You're lonely. You wanna cuddle. You wanna hold hands. You want a boyfriend to cuddle and hold hands with.
*5 minutes later*
Mind: You're horny. Remember that one time? That was gooood sex. You wanna ffffuuuuccckkkk. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex.
Soooo… I went to this guys bbq on Monday night. Now, this guy is a bad ass musician who just got back from a month long tour. I have sorta a soft spot for musicians. Anywho… I spent the night at his house after a party a few days before he left and stayed in his bed with him and nothing happened. Now, I was really high and he was really drunk but nothing happened, none the less. So the whole time he was on tour, he would text or call me like once or twice a week and it was never like a huge deal but freaking confusing. Anyways… Fast forward to Monday night. We hang out, people come and go and I end up the last one there. We had been pretty flirty the last hour or so. I helped him clean up and then we go lay in his bed—keep in mind it is 1 am and I was supposed to leave at that time— we start making out and we have sex. He tells me that he hasn’t had sex in a year. I was shocked seeing as how he was just on tour. After we are done, he takes me into the kitchen and dances with me and then dances me to his room and ASKS me to stay the night and drive home in the morning. I did.
I’m officially making this mean “Sex with an ex”. Make it happen. Like fetch.
Because s(ex) is what I do.