I want to be able to go have sex or at least rub one out, but my cunt is ripped apart. Sitting is painful. Getting off could potentially end in a trip to the emergency room. I wonder how long it will take to heal. I’m super sore and, right now, pretty concerned too.
I came to a stop at the light. Prepared myself to continue through the intersection once the light changed. I mounted my bike and BAMB my chain slipped and instantly I was ripped in half — not so much by the driving force of gravity as my cunt slammed into the cross bar of my bike, but more by the uncovered brake cables as they sliced through my labia. In three different spots. There is a massive gouge that will absolutely leave a scar. Once it has healed maybe I’ll make a video so you can see it. (I’m way more into scars than tattoos.) If I don’t make a video and you ever have a chance to get a look at my cunt, ask, I’ll show you. It is the sort of wound that is certain to scar. It is also the sort of wound that makes sex during Mardi Gras out of the question. I imagine it could not have happened at a better time. Here comes the biggest drunken sex with strangers party in the world and I’m sober and I have a lacerated cunt. Oh, I’m renting out my flat and going to a karmic monastery or something. I’m not gonna be able to deal with this shit at all. Not any way at all. Gotta keep my head straight and my legs crossed. This is just grand.
Seems like every time I leave my house some new fresh level of hell appears. Yesterday I had one simple task — go to the post office. It was the last day, the last hour, I had to go so I got on my bike and went. About halfway there was when my bike chain slipped. OUCH, ouch ouch was all I could feel. The pain was so excruciating and in vastly diverse sensations. Throbbing, Aching, Shooting, Spasming, Pulsating waves of heat and cold and red and orange and white light burst out of my cunt, through my fingers and forehead. Somehow I rode through the massive intersection, transfer point of trains and busses and bicycles and fast moving automobiles and pedestrians hauling a variety of sundry objects and small children. Then I walked the rest of the way to the post office. Unaware, at the time, that the brake cables I landed on so forcefully had sliced my labia like cheese. My cunt hurts. A lot.
My knee is still fucked from the mugging that happened almost a month ago. I was just starting to think about wrapping it up and going out to dance, but now my cunt is mutilated. I can barely walk. I’m not dancing. I’m meditating. I’m writing. I might make a fortune telling cart, just so I have something to do if I should decide I can leave the house, but I imagine I won’t be leaving the house. Cause OUCH!
I would like to imagine that I am just really clumsy, but the level of trauma that my body has endured in the last couple years has been life threatening. Were you around last year when I broke all the tiny little bones in the top of my foot and it swole up like an eggplant? How bout when that violent dude I was dating threw a tub of wood putty at my skull, missing my noggin by centimeters and getting putty on everything in that house? At this point I have lost count of how many times I have blacked out and chanted Hare Krishna from imminent violence and threat to my life and limb. Concussions and ripped up tendons and bites from zombies. I am really glad the brake cables missed my clit. Between my knee and my cunt I need to take a hint from the universe and sit the fuck down.
I guess I’m looking for a straight job, gawd knows I can’t fuck my way out of my troubles this week.