Sighinide

I totally snapped at everyone, in, like, a major way… wow.

That was nuts.

I’ve been feeling a lot of pressure lately, because I’ve been thinking about my next path in life. I need to figure out how to continue my relationships with Swifty, Bells, K-Stew, etc. while living outside of my parents’, which is making me anxious, because I’ve decided to find a girl to live with that won’t have a problem with me having a hundred mistresses on the side… and that won’t blab to the tabloids. That is a serious concern of mine. I don’t want TMZ calling my house. Ever.

I could live alone, and up until recently, I was planning on it, because of a mistaken thought that I should be 100% devoted to my Hollywood girlfriends. But after my outbursts, I’ve changed my mind. I like having someone to talk to when I need it, or someone to rely on when I need help.

I’m an obvious bisexual, so I’ve been considering a living relationship with a guy(!!!!!!!!!) which could work logistically if it cannot work with a girl. I could, possibly, just explain to the guy that I’m bi, so I have a straight half as well as a gay half… and live that way. And to be honest, I’ve always wanted to try having a real boyfriend- just once. I think it would be fun with the right guy. But wow, would my family hate that. My parents have figured out that I’m innately bisexual and they do not like it. They haven’t told me directly, but they’ve made it very clear that a romantic relationship with a man would be grounds for being disowned. Their feelings on this matter are so strong that I won’t even pursue Hollywood guys, because of the thought that my parents might learn about it somehow. So that’s a no go.

And I have other concerns. My parents are getting old and I still live with them. I have money saved up, but still no full time job, which is dumbfounding. For the last 2 years, I’ve been doing contract work at a pharma giant, and I’ve been doing great. My co-workers and my boss seem almost in awe of my programming and interpersonal skills, and my writing ability might be the best in the company.

But they will not hire me. As far as I know, they will not consider it.

I feel frustrated. And embarrassed. And taken advantage of. I’ve done great things for my company, but they will not pay me a living wage or give me a token nicety like health insurance. And for a man of my age and class, it just feels… wrong to not have a real job. I hate it, and it honestly makes me feel less of a man.

And then there’s some other stuff.

I think I know exactly the moment I snapped. It was when I saw those pics on Elle Fanning’s instagram of her canoodling with her real boyfriend. I love her very much, and I want her to be happy… but… ouch. Those pictures hurt. A lot. I was happy in my fantasy world in which I was her one and only, and it shocked me to see that. I even mentally blocked out what I was seeing for awhile. It took a couple more nervous visits to determine that yes, I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.

And those feelings were compounded later, when I saw Dakota canoodling with her real boyfriend, which she has apparently been seeing for a year now. And then I read those comments she made about the other guys she’s dated, and how she knew that they weren’t serious relationships and that she never cared much about them or invested in them. Eek. But I know that she wasn’t specifically talking about me, of course. I think. I hope.

I’m not saying this to throw shade on the Fanning sisters. I do understand their actions. But understanding is not the same as liking. I became very angry at them, and the whole system that they were a part of, and just… lashed out.

It was after lashing out and a lot of thought that I decided that I deserved someone of my own too.

So whatever. Right? Water under the bridge.

Whatever.

It’s coming. The fall will be here shortly.

These are interesting times today. And they’re only going to get more interesting, which is unfortunate.

I’m not sure what to do with my life at this point beside wait and see in what horrible direction the future will unfold. How much worse will the job market get? What new, horrible crimes will niggers come up with next? How much more money will Wall Street steal from the crushed middle class? How much more will the jug-eared halfbreed in the oval office piss me off? How many more people overseas will laugh at us, the supposed “The Land of the Free”, for allowing our lives to be smothered by the most corrupt and invasive spying apparatus in history?

All of what I’ve seen this past year has re-enforced my earlier ideas. The US system is on its last supports, and even those are cracking. Any goodwill that the government may have had in the past with its people and the global community has been squandered. Every city in the US is bankrupt. Everyone not in the top 5% is fuming. People are leaderless, not because they don’t have leaders, but because the ones they have disgust them so much that they tune them out.

This is the end of the “American Experiment”, that stupid and illogical mess of ideas promulgated by sheltered New Englanders and Jews, which posits that America is supposed to be a “Melting Pot” that erases genetic differences- i.e. that the purpose of this country is to magically turn niggers and other assorted subhumans into actual people.

This idea clearly hasn’t worked, as even a cursory glance at society shows, and everybody knows it.

Everyone, that is, except for the 1%, who it seems do not exist on the same plane of reality as the rest of us.

I am consistently surprised at the block-headedness of our “leaders” who do not seem to think that, say, the explosion of racially motivated black crime is worthy of notice, or that the consequent build up of anger and frustration amongst conservative whites is something that should be talked about.

Even considering that the leadership of this country is corrupt, that is stupid. Do they think that these things are not serious problems? Do they actually think that people don’t notice the skin color of those committing crimes against everyone?

They can’t even do tyranny correct. Every good tyrant knows that his power can only exist as long as the majority of his people feel safe. The second they don’t, his fitness to rule can and will be brought into question.

Which bring me to the next point- the unwillingness of those in the 1% to work with the flow of history, instead of against it.

It is obvious which way the winds are blowing. Russia and China are embracing hard-core nationalism. Israel is kicking out its niggers. Greece, the soul of Western civilization, is turning Nazi. So is Eastern Europe. The corrupt French elites are desperate to keep nationalism from spreading in France. The young here in the US are “ruining” the internet with angry comments about the horrors of racial integration. Gun sales are through the roof and climbing, as everyone is scared of niggers.

The global cultural winds are shifting in a very obvious direction. It is so obvious that a ten year old can see it (and in fact they often do, which explains all of the racist YouTube comments), but for some reason, the stupid “elites” in this country do not seem to be able to understand which way history is flowing. And if they do recognize it, they seem paralyzed about how to react to it, besides calling those 10 year olds “racist”. It seems that actually addressing the root cause of the public’s anger is beyond their capabilities. Or perhaps, they cannot address the anger because they are afraid that it is legitimate, which would force them to change.

I wonder about what the ultimate fate of the “elites” in this country will be. What punishment do they deserve? History is unkind to those who stand in the way of progress and social justice. If they do not or cannot change with the times, they will be destroyed and replaced, as they deserve to be. But how? I don’t know. That question will be left to others.

Since the weekend of “Seeing Green” I’ve been seriously entertaining thoughts that I might need to separate myself from my girlfriends for my own personal safety.

I’m doing this not because I’m scared that anything could happen directly to me, but because I’m increasingly worried that my girlfriends’ stupid and illogical behavior will trigger something catastrophic.

As stated before, people are angry today, especially young people. They, in particular, are very, very angry- and as the economic depression widens and deepens, they will only become angrier. This is most true amongst poor and working class young white American men, who perhaps the most alienated people on Earth.

It is true that niggers and spics are more violent than whites, but their violence seems to serve a logical purpose- like killing rival gang members or ethnically cleansing poor white people. White people’s violence, in contrast, tends to be random and explosive. Their crimes are fueled by emotion.
White men seem to excel at terrorism. They’re great at it- possibly the best in the world. Terrorism is, of course, what school shootings and mass murders really are.

This is why I feel I need to slowly back away from Hollywood. We haven’t had any hints, yet, that there might be a Breivik style slaughter of prominent liberals in the US, but if that could happen in Norway, it could certainly happen here. I don’t doubt that some people here have considered it, especially since Obama’s re-election and the idiotic and short sighted gloating that accompanied it.

The media’s reluctance to seriously investigate and fix the problem of anger amongst young white men is really baffling, especially after the recent mass shootings, and the growing number of assassination attempts being made on politicians from this demo. This problem will not go away on it’s own, and there is every indication that it will get worse. The youth unemployment rate continues to grow. Racially motivated attacks against whites are growing. And all of the money and wealth in the middle class is being stolen by the illegal immigrant that Hollywood itself put into office.

I think that much of the reason for this colossal oversight is the isolation of the chattering classes. To them, the stereotypical “angry white male” does not really exist because they don’t see them and talk to them. They know of me, of course, but only halfway.

In contrast to them, I’ve spent a good portion of the last 20 years in the deep underground of “Angry White Male” culture. I know it inside and out- I know where it comes from, who is in it, and it’s secrets. And yes, I was once an online friend of a school shooter- Jeff “Todesengel” Weise (who was not white, but who was saturated in the culture regardless). And I do know of others in the culture who considered following in Harris and Klebold’s footsteps but stopped at the last minute. For every successful school shooting, there are likely a hundred that get planned out and half prepared but not executed. And no, gun laws will do nothing; where there is a will, a way will always appear.

To me, the people in this culture are not nameless and faceless. They are real people, with hopes and dreams like everyone else. They are intelligent and creative thinkers that have legitimate grievances with a corrupt system that does not respect them and that sees them only as cogs in a machine.

Take Breivik, for example. The media would have you believe that he did what he did because he was crazy. He was not. An honest assessment of him would find him to be violent, but also intelligent, ambitious, and disciplined. People that are crazy are unpredictable and illogical. Breivik is neither. He was a self-made millionaire in his early 20’s, and compiled a coherent 1000+ page book explaining his actions, which, as it turns out, were indeed motivated by the anti-white male culture of the modern West. He spent years preparing for his act, and then carried out his complex and dangerous plan without a hitch. What he did might be offensive, but it wasn’t crazy. And I believe that we may have only seen the tip of the iceberg of those like him.

There has been report after report in recent years about the plight of poor American whites, and still the “elites” do nothing. The reports about the alarming jump in suicides from this demo? It wasn’t worthy of attention. The recent reports about the dramatic fall in the life expectancy for poor white women? Not an issue. The epidemic of black on white crime? Nobody cares. And every day, people become angrier and angrier.

It is absolutely inexcusable and irresponsible that no attention is being paid to these issues. It is disgusting and morally reprehensible, and it reveals the deep hypocrisy the American system. Unless a sea change in the mentality of the political class happens, this whole situation cannot, and will not, end well.

In regards to my girlfriends: I need to think of myself, first and foremost. My own state of mind must be put in front of everyone else’s, and something tells me that I may have to re-orient myself in case something catastrophic happens. So be it.

In particular, I feel that I must separate myself from any celeb that willingly mixes with niggers. Considering the extreme hostility to blacks that exists in many white communities today, I think that this is a wise precaution. I already blacklisted Eliza Dushku and Doutzen Kroes, as well as everyone with an adopted black kid. Recently, the public reaction to Miley’s performance was a real eye opener. People really and truly don’t like race mixing right now. Not even a hint of it.

My girlfriends overestimate themselves if they believe that they will not be punished if the situation in the US deteriorates further. They most certainly will be. Hunger and fear drastically change people, so much so that what might be a mere annoyance one year could be grounds for revolution the next.

In particular, they seem to believe that I will continue to support them regardless of what they do, which is not the case. I am much stronger and more capable than they realize. Unlike so many of them, I am important because of who I am and what I am capable of, and not because of those around me or what might be in my bank account. Just as I changed to cure my lupus, so too can I change to meet whatever else life throws at me- and I will not long support a system that I believe to be threatening my state of mind and my future, if not my actual life. Just like everyone else.

It is stupefying to see celebs these days spending so much of their time in Africa, trying to fix what cannot be fixed over there, as all of the problems I just laid out are worsening at home. What are they thinking? They’re not, I guess.

The road underneath was quiet but unnerving.

It seemed as though I could hear each bit of gravel as it was passed over by the limousine’s tires.

“So, do you know the Swifts?” The driver inquired. He was a sweet man, but simple and old. I was sure that he couldn’t read my inner dialogue underneath my calm expression. Not that he tried, of course. His eyes- half covered by his green, worn out visor- were fixed on the uneven road ahead.

“Yeah, kind of. I’m a fan of Taylor’s music. She knows me from the internet. I give her advice.” I responded. This small talk was a nice reprieve from the mostly silent ride from the airport. It gave my mind something to do besides mental rehearsals for the moment that I would meet Taylor again.

I decided to continue the conversation, in the hopes that I could get information. Plus, he was nice.

“I’m actually a friend of many of Taylor’s friends. We all go back…“ How long have I known them? I didn’t know. “I’ve known them for about eight or nine years. I think.”

“So all of this is done over the internet then?”

“Um, yeah. I’ve never actually met them.”

“Ah, Ok, Ok. I figured that you were a musician or something.” He continued. “It’s amazing that you’ve known her for so long but have never seen her. Things were a lot different back when I was young.”

I smiled. Boy, did he not know the half of it.

“Do you know Taylor?” I asked.

“Me? Noooo no no.” He laughed. “I just take people to her house. I’ve never seen her.” He paused. “People say she’s nice, though. A friend of mine owns a coffee shop in town. He says that her mom stops by every now and then.”

“She’s nice?”

“Oh yes, yes. Most people here are nice.” He said. “Famous or not. It doesn’t matter. I’ve been taking people to the mansions here for forty years. Never had much of a problem.”

Good. Maybe I worry too much.

We got up to the security gate. As the driver talked with security, I turned my attention inward.

The flight to New Hampshire wasn’t bad at all. I’d never flown by myself before, but it was easy, especially since Taylor’s company prearranged and paid for everything for me. My concerns were more about what was coming, and how I should handle meeting Taylor- and if I should try to integrate myself further into her life or not.

After weeks of thinking, I still didn’t know.

I sighed, and looked out of the window to take in the sights. Taylor’s neighborhood was really beautiful.

The most impressive thing was the endless green- the grass, the flowers and the trees. It was amazing. I’ve lived my whole life in cramped suburban neighborhoods with no space for such things. Here, each property was huge in every way. Each mansion seemed to have it’s own small prairie, and they all had beautiful, enormous trees. This was truly a world apart.

The driver stopped the limo after a short drive to the front door. I stepped out and looked around. The lush grass looked even brighter and more beautiful outside the car. This was so, so different from any neighborhood I had ever been in. Outside, the openness of the neighborhood was powerful.

The driver handed me my bags. I thanked him and fished a crinkled twenty out of my pocket for a tip. As usual, I had to visually separate the green bill from the bundle of kleenex I always carry with me. The foliage here is pretty, but potentially very dangerous to someone with allergy and asthma problems.

“Here.” I handed him the bill. “Thanks again for the ride.”

“Anytime! Just give me a ring when you need to leave.” He smiled and scurried back to his limo, leaving me alone with my bags and thoughts.
I looked up at the mansion. It was certainly big, but it was welcoming. It wasn’t like those imposing, hidden mansions in Lake Forest back home. This house actually looked like a place you could have fun in.

I started up the stairs to the door, and stopped at the doorbell.

I was sure that Taylor wouldn’t be angry about the mix up, but I was worried that she would simply take her phone back and then force me out. She clearly loves me, but I couldn’t forget how startled and icy she was when I first called her. But then again… maybe a physical separation would be for the best for us in the end. We shall see.

I touched the doorbell, running my finger over it. Then I pushed it in.

I heard a chime, and then the stomping of women’s shoes inside, coming towards the door. The girl was young and athletic… but it wasn’t Taylor. Taylor moves lighter than this. I wonder…

The door opened.

It was Ashley Greene.

“Hi Tom.” She chirped, clearly happy to see me.

I was surprised, but that quickly turned to warmth. I smiled. “Ashley! Hi! How are you?” I asked.

She smiled back. “Good! Come in!” She led the way. As she walked back into the house, I studied her. She was wearing shorts, and a green t-shirt with no bra. Her black hair was back in a ponytail. I watched her legs move as she walked.

She led me from the foyer to a huge and modern living room with green chairs and a massive TV. There were big windows surrounding us so I could clearly see the foliage outside, and off in the distance, the ocean. The view was beautiful.

We sat down facing each other in the chairs.

“Ash, wow, I didn’t expect to see you here.” I said.

“Yeah, Taylor didn’t think she could make it back in time to see you from the concert. That’s why she asked me to be here for you.” She reached down into her handbag and pulled out her phone. When she bent down, I caught a glimpse of her nipples through the neck of her shirt. She tapped the phone a few times. “Taylor’s mom just texted me before you got here. She says that Taylor should be here in, like, an hour.”

“Ok. Cool. Thanks Ash.” I opened up and took a risk. “You’re really cute.”

She laughed and smiled a little. “Thanks.” She studied me. “Taylor was right. Your hair really is fluffy and fine.”

“Thanks.” I wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation. Is this girl my friend? My wife? Someone I don’t know?

She seemed at a loss as well. “So…” she sighed and leaned back. “What do you think of Taylor’s home?” She asked.

“It’s nice. I like it. It’s a lot bigger than the homes I’m used to.”

“Yeah, it’s nice. This is the first time I’ve been here too. The view is beautiful.” She looked at the greenery outside the windows. She was right.

She turned to me. “Do you need anything? Are you hungry? I was just going to make a salad for lunch when you got here.”

“Sure! Sounds good. I’ll make one too.” I took another risk, and said these sentences without actively suppressing my lisps. It felt a little more natural.

She raised her eyebrows at me, but otherwise didn’t seem surprised. She smiled again. She was clearly more comfortable with that kind of stuff than the people back home. “The kitchen is this way.”

I followed her again while calculating how I could make the best of this situation. It would be really nice to talk to her, but how could I get the most information out of her? What if I wanted to see her again? Would that even be a good idea? And… I know she loves me. Should I seduce her? Would I be betraying Taylor if I did, even though I’m not with her? A million questions and only one girl. And I was sure that she was thinking similar things, even if she wasn’t discussing them.

We went into the kitchen and made up quick salads with what was in Taylor’s fridges. I made a Caesar per family tradition. My sister and I had made a secret pact, half serious, to choose Caesar salads over all other types when eating out. I guess it provided a sense of stability in uncertain environments. I also grabbed a bottle of water. Ashley just threw together some greens.

Ashley turned to me. “Let’s eat upstairs. The view is even better on the second floor.”

She led me up a flight of stairs into a guest bedroom. Again, it seemed very open, with large windows and nice light green paint on the walls. It was clean and upscale. Nothing cheap in here.

We sat down on the bed and started to eat. And talk.

“Wow. It’s really you.” She said.

“Yeah, I know. Weird, huh?”

“I guess. You seem very normal, actually. It’s amazing.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

“Taylor told me everything… you know. About how you met and what you did.”

“Ok.” I was stuffing my face. I was hungry.

“I don’t think that she should’ve done that at the concert. I hope that she apologized to you.”

I stopped eating. “Apologized? For having sex with me? What do you mean? I’m like… I don’t know… her husband, right? I’m sure you understand.”

“That’s not quite what I meant. I mean, she should be apologizing for everything. For mixing you up and forcing you to come here.”

“We couldn’t mail each other our phones, though. I kind of had to come.”

“Yeah, but… maybe you shouldn’t be here. Sorry.” Her voice got quiet and trailed off.

I ignored her. What is else did she want me to do?

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the closet doors were open slightly. Was that?… It couldn’t be. I left my food and walked over. I opened the doors.

Yes! That was it! This was the dress that Taylor wore at the Easy A premiere!

“Um, you shouldn’t be going through Taylor’s stuff.” Ashley warned.

“I just had to see this. This is the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.” I said. It still looked nice. I bet it hadn’t even been worn since then. If anything, the bright emerald dress looked even more striking in person.

“The moment I saw Taylor in this dress was the moment I knew I had to keep her. That was the turning point in our relationship. Without this, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

Ashley scowled at me. She walked over and closed the closet.

“Do you love me?” She retorted.

“What? Of course I do. Why wouldn’t you think so?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You haven’t said a word about us since you’ve been here.”

“I didn’t know what to say.” I stopped. “Besides, you have a boyfriend, right? So why the fuck do you care anyways?” Woah, I just snapped at her. Where did that come from?

“I love you.”

“I know. And I just said that, yes, I love you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I guess.”

“You guess? So what did you really want me to say?”

She hesitated. “Just what you said. I just wanted to know if you loved me. That’s all.”

We both stopped. There was dead silence in the house. All I could hear was the far off singing of a distant bird.

She kissed me. Hard. On the lips. I slipped my hand under her shirt and squeezed hard on her nipples.

She took her lips away from me. “Ohhhhhh!!” She cried. She wanted me. Bad. Almost as much as I wanted her- she was an actress. A hot one. One that I needed.

“Take me, but do it quick.” She said. “We’re not supposed to be doing this.” Where had I heard that before? I couldn’t remember.

I fucked her as hard and as fast as I could. It was brutal yet beautiful. Her screams echoed throughout the empty house. Each thrust of mine caused an emotional explosion in her.

“OH YES!!!” She screamed. “This is AMAZING!!”

I couldn’t catch my breath long enough to respond.

Her nipples were super hard. They almost hurt as I glided over her. Her soft legs made thrusting so, so easy.

After a minute- or ten, I don’t know- I could feel myself ready to burst within her, and I could feel her ready to climax herself. We were both out of control.

But wait… somewhere, I could hear the constant ring of a doorbell. Was that… Taylor?

“Oh, FUCK.” I quickly silenced Ashley by covering her mouth with my hand.

Her surprised cloudy green eyes locked onto mine. When she orgasmed she unconsciously bit down on my palm.

“OWWW!! Stop it!!” I yelled. She released my hand and screamed loudly. Then I orgasmed too.

“UNFFF. AHH!!! FUCK! FUCK.”

Ashley knew Taylor was at the door. “Quick, get your fucking clothes on!” She thundered.

“Ow, my hand!”

“You could have just told me, you know!”

“Well, you didn’t have to be so fucking loud!”

“Get dressed! What are we going to tell Taylor?”

I didn’t know. God, why did it ALWAYS have to be like this for me? Maybe leaving this circus wouldn’t be so bad.

After I got my clothes on, my hand started to bleed. Rivulets of blood were staining Taylor’s pristine carpet.

“FUCK. Where’s the bathroom? Where are bandaids?”

“This way!” Ashley led me into the bathroom. I held my bloody hand over the sink and stopped the bleeding. Then I quickly cleaned the cut, disinfected it, and slapped a bandaid on it. Just like high school. It was over in an instant. When we both turned to leave we saw Taylor standing in the door, her mouth open.

“What…” she started. “What… is going on? What happened?”

Ashley and I just looked at each other. Her green shirt was splattered with blood.

“Ummmmm, hi Taylor. Ashley and I were eating when she accidentally cut me. So we’re just trying to get me fixed up.”

“Oh… .” She was still stunned. “I just heard a lot of screaming and shouting. Then when I got upstairs I noticed all the blood. Are you… OK?”

“Um yeah. I’m fine, thanks. Nice to see you!”

“Yeah… nice to see you too.” She said incredulously. “Thanks for coming.”

I gave her a thumbs up with my one useable hand.

“Wow… let me, um, get something to clean up all the blood.” She left.

Ashley and I looked at each other.

“Sorry.” She said.

“It’s OK. I guess we shouldn’t have done that.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” She replied. “Listen, Tom. Taylor loves you a lot and I know that you want Taylor. But I don’t think you should try.”

“Why not? You have a boyfriend. Why shouldn’t I get a girlfriend?”

“You should get a girlfriend. But… not her.” She frowned. “It wouldn’t be fair to her. I mean, she doesn’t want to have to deal with stuff like this for the rest of her life. I mean, what would happen if you were to meet your other girlfriends? You know, like Kristen or Emma?”

“Emma? Emma Stone?”

“No, Emma Watson.”

“Oh.” I didn’t ask which Kristen she was referring to. I think she meant Stewart. I had to admit, Ashley had a point. But maybe it wasn’t good enough.

“I think it would be fine with Taylor.” I snapped, to her surprise. “Taylor is smart enough to handle a real relationship with me. And I can handle things and keep my secrets.” I steeled myself. “I need a future. I wouldn’t want her so bad if life in general wasn’t so extremely fucked up right now.”

“Don’t do it.” She shook her head. “I want to protect you, too.”

I heard Taylor’s long legs clumping up the stairs in her heels. I mouthed “Thank you” to Ashley as we walked out of the bathroom.

After an hour of scrubbing and small talk the stains were gone, except from Ashley’s shirt and my pants. Ash just threw away her whole outfit and took what she wanted from one of Taylor’s closets. Amazing, I thought, how the 1% lives. They were good people, but still…

After changing her wardrobe, Ashley said that she had to leave. “My flight is in an hour. I need to get back.”

After saying her goodbyes to Taylor, she squeezed my good hand and smiled. “It was nice to meet you, Tom.”

I smiled back. “You too, Ashley. I’ll see you later.”

With that, she left.

I turned to look at Taylor. Her dress was wet from the cleaning solution. She still hadn’t removed her sunglasses from the top of her head. The big frames were a solid green plastic, which was her style these days. They looked like a green version of those Keds glasses she sold on her website.

“Well, that was exciting.” Taylor said. “You know Tom, for someone I’ve only met twice, you’ve sure caused a lot of drama.”

“Yeah… but that’s OK. We’ll get through it.” I hugged Taylor with my good hand. She smiled.

“Oh, before I forget, let me get you your phone.” She disappeared upstairs and returned with it.

I opened my bags and found Taylor’s phone.

As we switched phones, she reached into her back pocket and handed me a plane ticket. “Here. I called the limo service.”

That wasn’t what I wanted, and I’m sure that she saw that. “Tom…” She frowned. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Think outside of the box, that’s what. You know the situation. If you let me stay here, I will be yours forever. If you force me out now, I will eventually leave you. Of course.”

“You just make this soooooooo hard. Wow. You just don’t stop, do you?”

“You… are my ticket to a better and happier life. Not this.” I held up the ticket she just gave me. “I deserve a better life than the one I’ve been given. Which you know.” I straightened myself. This trip had opened my eyes. Now that I knew how Taylor actually lived, and what other possibilities in life were available to me, there was no turning back. “I will find a better life for myself somehow. If it isn’t with you, it will be with someone else. It is your choice.” Deep inside, I could feel the green eyed monster stirring. I didn’t want to go back. Not to my too small bedroom in my cramped house. I deserved better.

“And…” I continued. “I love you. Very very much. Of course.”

Taylor took me by surprise. She quickly snatched the ticket from my hand and looked at it. I almost instinctively held onto it.

I looked at the ticket with her. Once again, the green highlights told the story. If I was to make the flight, I would need to leave right away.

She sighed.

“FINE!!!!!!” She yelled. “You want to stay here with me? FINE. But don’t you DARE fuck any more of my friends in my house!” She stopped. “I’m not stupid, Tom.” She looked down. “And you stole my naked pictures, didn’t you?”

“Yes. You are correct on both counts.” I replied. “But… if you were me, you would have done both. I mean, I thought you didn’t like me! You never talk to me or anything!”

“I would never steal anyone’s nude pictures! I’m so glad I switched phones with you. Now I know what kind of person you are.”

Hmmm? “What?”

“I did it on purpose. I just wanted to see…”

My mind quickly mapped everything out- the gallery that was perfectly suited to me, the way that Taylor expected me to fuck her that morning… and wait, didn’t Ashley say that Taylor had forced me to come here? I didn’t quite understand what she was referring to at the time. But now I did.

“You…” I grinned. “Are good.”

She glowered at me. “I have to be. I’m with you.” She continued. “I had those pictures ready in case I ever met you in person. So when I met you in the hallway, I knew that I had my chance. So…”

“You seduced me.”

“I was going to simply give you the pictures after we had sex, but then the opportunity came up to test you and… I did it.”

I looked into her eyes.

We kissed.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I love you more.”

“No, I love you more!”

We giggled and hugged.

I kissed her. “I love you, Taylor. Smarty.”

“You’re smarter than I am, Mr. Wizard.” She stopped. “I know you love me, but are you really ready to live with me?”

I thought about what had just happened. I thought about Ashley. “No… no I’m not.”

She nodded. “Here.” She turned on my phone and seeded her name and number in my contacts. “When you’re ready… but only then.”

I understood. “What if I’m never ready?”

“Then that’s OK. We’ll just keep doing what we’ve done before.”

I nodded.

I hugged her and took the ticket, and then I opened the door… with my injured hand. It didn’t hurt anymore.

Outside, I could see the old limo driver standing by his car, waiting for me. All I could see is green. He was pulling down his visor to block out the bright sun.

“It’s bright out there… here, take these.” Taylor handed me her sunglasses.

I took them. They looked clunky. The thick green plastic made them look like a child’s toy- but they worked.

I put them on, grabbed my bags, and walked out.

I turned around. “Bye.” I said.

“Bye Tom.”

I descended the stairs and turned around again. The door to Taylor’s house was closed. I didn’t mind.

I handed my bags to the driver.

He laughed when he saw my ridiculous glasses. And the weird smile on my face. And my disheveled hair. And the blood on my clothes. And the huge bandage on my hand.

“What the hell happened in there?” He laughed again.

“Oh, nothing much. I just… cut myself a little. It’s OK.”

“Sure, sure. It happens.” He didn’t want to know, I guess. As I stepped into the vehicle, I took one last look at the immense greenery surrounding me. It really was amazing.

I then thought of how great it was that I had Taylor’s number. Something… was going to grow from this. I wasn’t sure what, though. Time will tell.
I stepped into the limo and closed the door.

“Where to?” The driver asked.

“Home.”

I checked Swifty’s twitter.

Last night- after her concert- she posted an instagram; it was a picture of a doughnut, with some flavor text embellishing her hunger for it.

The doughnut had a fuchsia frosting with specks of olive green sprinkles. In some areas, the sprinkles had somewhat melted, leaving a sugary, sticky mess of colors and preservatives.

It looked like olive- tinted fuchsia.

I yawned and surfed somewhere else.

I HATE her.

I’m sooooooo glad she’s having so much fun in L.A. right now. Maybe I can live vicariously through her like I always do.

No, really, I am glad for her. Swifties forever.

I hope one of those big lights falls and hits her on the brain.

Kylie just turned 16, so now she’s going to be featured on all of those celeb pic sites.

Fine. *Sigh*. I’ll be her boyf. She’s hot. I don’t fucking care. Same with her gorgeous sister. UGGGGGHHHHHH.

8 years ago, I decided that the Kardashians were all that was wrong with the 1%, and I vowed to stay away from them. Since then, Kendall has used her instagram to get her hooks into me, and Kylie had them in for awhile until I got free from her. They’re just going to keep coming back. Fucking whatever. Fine. I’ll date them too. Fuck it, I’m already in love with Kendall. I feel sssoooooo warm and cuddly when I see her. Oh Goody. So why not her sister too?

I wish they were ugly. Ugh. Fine.

I need this concert to be as good as it can be, because I might never see Taylor again. This is why I’ve been writing so much about it. If I build it up enough, then maybe the memories of this one evening will… hopefully… be enough to last me for the rest of my life.

Also, it does still kind of freak me out that Taylor refuses to talk to me. The last time I saw her in concert, I saw how popular she was, and how many friends and fans she had, and frankly, how rich and important she was… and I became jealous of her. And after I lost my job right after the concert, I started to hate her, because I felt as though I wasn’t good enough. I became suicidally depressed because nobody wanted to talk to me, even though I needed to talk to someone. I hope I never have feelings like those ever again.

This time, I think, things will be different. I’m more confident now and stronger and smarter and more secure in many ways. I’m at the point now that I’m not worried about how I’ll feel when I wake up alone tomorrow. Good. I deserve that, I think.

We’ve both grown so much since we saw each other 2 years ago. She’s became more herself, and I’ve became more myself. It’s been nice.

I hope that Taylor has the time of her life tonight. I know that I will.

When I bought the tickets to see Swifty, I vowed to get a perfect body, so that I could get the most out of the concert. It almost worked. I didn’t get exactly what I wanted, but I got all of the knowledge and experience that I need. I think I’ve finished my education about health and the human body.

All I need is another month or 2 to get that super fit and athletic look that I know Swifty likes. I wish I could have achieved this in time for the concert, but other health- related issues kept coming up. I’ve fixed all of those on my own though, so no biggie. It’s been a fascinating and incredible journey.

I’ll be able to keep this knowledge with me forever. It will be awesome to be “hot”. I can’t wait. Thanks Swifty!!!!!!

This time tomorrow, I’ll be seeing Taylor. Live; in person.

Not that that matters or anything.

Taylor Swift is the softest girl in the world. She’s so squishy and smooth. She’s like a little collectible doll just for me.

I love her voice. She’s a pretty songbird, traveling from town to town, singing her songs of love and joy.

I love her! Her hair is so soft and luxurious. And it has such volume! I love how it bounces and sways when she walks- like she’s living in a shampoo commercial. She’s a perfect and pretty pop princess. There’s no girl in this world as striking and seductive as her.

I want to hold her in my arms and squeeze all the love out of her. I want to squeeze her so tight she squeaks like a chew toy. I want to hold her so close that she says she’ll never leave me.

She smells like kittens eating flowers.

Her eyes are so warm and expressive. She’s quiet, but her eyes say so much by themselves that she doesn’t need to talk.

Her nose is so cute.

Her lips are so soft and tasty. My lips belong on hers and nowhere else. SMOOCH!!!!!

Her hands are so feminine and squeezable, yet so precise. I love how they tenderly walk across her guitars.

Her legs are INCREDIBLE. Hottest on Earth by far. The rest of her, too. GOD she’s hot. Smokingly, smolderingly, surface of the sun hot. She’s easily the sexist woman alive. I would kill everyone in the world just for a night with her (well, not literally, but you know what I mean).

I need to own her forever. I can’t imagine a world without her softness and sweetness and songs and sexiness.

Even her name is nice. Taye-lerr Swiff-t. I love how it sounds and feels in my mouth when I say it. It sounds so matter of fact, yet so comfortable.

I love her!