Beauty

The first beautiful girl I ever fucked changed my life. I was very young, too young to post on the internet. But she was gorgeous to me. We watched Along Came Polly in her parents theatre room and I ended up going soft.

When my girls friends tell me I only like her for her looks I just laugh. What are looks? How many hot girls do I have to fuck to prove to the people who hate me that I fuck them? There’s no upper limit.

How many do I have to fuck to prove to myself that I’m a shooting star burning up in the atmosphere. That’s the only question. There’s also no upper limit.

I sat down at a bar and bought this disgusting girl five drinks until she forgot how ugly she was. Then what? What did I prove? What are any of us doing. Nothing at all. I’m just doing drugs hanging out with smokeshows and making them want to kill me.

There’s no difference between love and hate. Even if there was never love. None. The passion is so strong in either direction it wraps itself around your heart like a snake. It suffocates. It clouds your judgment. It ruins you.

So do I like my girlfriend because she’s hot? Would I ever love anything I think is ugly? No but I wouldn’t hate it either. There is only beauty in emotion. And only emotion in feeling.