cementing in my mind that from now on I am the worlds most normal tranny

my behaviour will not change

what does it say for my heart and soul that I have fat tits and a grabbable stomach

good lord there’s chilli everywhere

artificial energy is plentiful and delicious

fucking hell babe it’s incredible

a soft oppression layers itself across a world of hardwood floors and concrete bridges, he invites me to contribute to the ever-shifting gallery of artwork painted onto the walls but my mind refuses to let me look at them directly

I find myself sinking to my hands and knees to crawl back inside

gazing at a man on a balcony I venture upwards to find the platform is more precarious than I could have imagined

as the floor shifts and I turn to leave I see people have been here before and left painted warnings of his duplicity on the stonework

and it’s so expensive on top of that

longest sequential time spent recovering: 21 hours