I cried all the way home.
Blake is a bastard.
I can’t begin to tell you how much I hate him right now. I don’t even know how I am writing this. My eyes are swollen I can barely see.
After the evening service Blake and I had sex in my car. In the usual place, in the Taco Bell parking lot next door to church. Today after he dicked me down Blake wanted to talk, which he never really wants to because as I wrote before he feels “guilty” after he fucks me then he wants is to leave and pray it out. Right. Like if God isn’t tired of Blake’s shit. After Blake “repents” he treats me like he is “holier than thou” until his dick wants me again.
But today was different… he wanted to talk.
So, after he whipped the condom out the window he asked me if I knew a girl name Maryanne Roberts. Of course, I know her! Who the fuck doesn’t? She’s like so perfect, “virgin Mary” has the perfect everything, her body, her hair and those fucken green eyes; the last I heard her family is extremely wealthy.
In the pit of my stomach I already knew where Blake was going with this.
Then he told me that he feels like she’s “THE ONE”! Are you fucken serious?! Then what the fuck am I?
Without thinking I asked him about us and you know what he had LOS PINCHES HUEVOS to tell me, that the only reason why he started to talk to me was because he needed to take care of his “fleshly” desires and masturbating was not going to cut it.
He said, “You seemed like good pussy and I wasn’t wrong, but I need my wife to be a woman of God, a virgin and younger a lot younger than you — oh and of course not fat, but this was fun babe”.
Those words cut me DEEP, but just to show him that I am a boss bitch, I told him that this was getting a little tiresome and I was glad he chose another victim.
I am tired of myself. It’s fun and games when I am horny and I end up sleeping with a guy, but I hate that I fall for them so quickly. I thought this could be something. Why am I so stupid? Why did I have hope for him? Why did I beg God? I begged that Blake would be my future husband. And now at this very moment all I hope is that he rots in hell, fucken asshole.
I leave my diary open to dry. As you can imagine, I cried on it.
Desperately, I yank at the zipper from my Sunday dress, I can’t wait to take it off. My soaked panties are on the floor, I couldn’t bare to sit in them a minute longer. Looking at myself in the mirror makes me cry harder- I look pretty when I cry. Once I am in the shower I let the hot water fall on my face, I wish it was scorching just so that I can feel a little more pain.
Hello my dear reader, thank you for stopping by. Thank you for being supportive and patient.