These days, I don't feel much. As someone who associates and uses emotions; that should be a concern. But it is not. Remember, I'm feeling unemotional. So that feeling of laxness towards my own downfall is becoming as natural as the moon in it's journey around the earth.

It hit me first in my breaks. There's one girl in my department (current department in a goddamn food magazine - I blame sir Asami the great) that spreads around boys' addresses to any girl who's willing to listen and a few cents of attention to spare. This grisly display of attention seeking and level of misandry would've disgusted me on any normal day.

It's not a normal day, apparently.

Sometimes, which is even weirder, I magically transform into an awkward alien. On those times, I make bad jokes, bad hollers and even faker attempts at being smart. And return home to realise that I've fallen deep in the social circle. (There goes that Food and Wine Aspines' magazine shoot.) And ashamed, I wonder if anyone's noticing. Notice this.. Change. If anyone pities me or tries not to be selfish.

They don't.

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?" His whiskey is as golden as his own. Crisp with the tang of ice, I'm sure. Ever the elegant jackass. "Pity encourages laxness and fuels expectation for service in the receiver. You should be happy."

"As if I need you to tell me that. I am happy." A mile long smile split my face.

At the least no one pities me.

.

I've heard that put lips are like membranes. I'm not big medical shit, never gave a fuck about them. But if that's true; I'd like to see if I can take in you. Absorb you. Keep a part of you in me. This...

Your essence.

I think I'd feel safe enough, then.

(A great shiver spans from my dick through my groin. Cutting into me. It's like the gold eyed man - animal, absolute animal - had taken courses in giving head. It's frustrating so I groan. And he asks with that voice of his, would I like more? That's actually... Something to consider )

.

As humans, we're engendered to never be satisfied. (Want more, have more, discover more, be more.) But i think that's either a plus point or just a stupid cover to say that people are just shallow sacks of shit. They're not. Some aren't. I'd like to believe that.

But it's hard to believe when you're got a piece of negativity whispering in your ear everyday you wake up. Its like everyday is a negativity Olympics. How negative and stupid can you be today? It's an endless prize fest if you win!

Asami with storm filled eyes, painted-no, carved behind my lids. I wake up with that sometimes. In the middle of the night, sweating. Gasping and crying from suffocation.

It gets worse some nights, the bald guy with crazy faces and facades grabbing at my legs; the gunshot barely burning through me or my self respect being ripped by acidic words. (I've never been observant about words, but Feilong is a veteran in poison.)

I smell cake. It might be an illusion-

God... Darn. I just remembered.

I wanna make cakes. Cakes make everything better.

.

Everything is the same. The cake recipe. The same old eggs, flour and sugar. Same me with the pink apron and black spatula.

But now at the end of the day, there's now always someone to finish cupcakes with me. And no, it's not a metaphor for my camera to take editorial-esque photos with. It's...

It's a bit personal.

(In the end, Asami would always come home to find at least one cupcake doused with icing and decorated with his name..)