All the things I'm thinking

It's 1:27am and I'm sitting naked in my dorm room, writing on this blog because I want to spill the bitchiness that is seething inside me. This is where I'm free from judgment, for the most part, and this is where I'm safe. Tonight when I got off work at midnight, I came back to my room, pondering what I should wear tomorrow for Thanksgiving. I tried on a few outfits, then lay down on my bed, nude as I caressed my body. I thought of you. I thought of you as I dipped my fingers inside myself and couldn't believe that you turned this down. I slid my wet fingers out of me and turned them as they glistened in the light, shining with my juices. I don't care if it's crude, if it's arrogant, if it offends you. I want you to be sorry. Not sorry for treating me like a bitch, but sorry that you missed out on me.

Did I tell you that I saw what she looked like? It's a little insulting to think that you chose her over me. I hope she has an amazing personality. I judged her, I picked apart her flaws and compared them to my own. She has a muffin-top, a bad smile, no hips, and bushy eyebrows. She's thinner than I am, it's true, but if you'd rather have that than me, so be it. Call me shallow. Call me callous. Call me bitter and judgmental. But, for your sake, I hope you turn the lights out on this one.

Do you believe me when I say I'm a little giggly about it? About how I wasted my time and my excellent oral skills on a chump like you? Can you hear me slap myself square in the forehead for ever thinking that I wasn't good enough? I played your game, little boy, wait, scratch that, I got sucked into your game through my own stupidity, I'll admit it.

In awhile, maybe not soon, maybe not for months or a year, you'll have a thought that crosses your mind about me. Maybe it'll be when and if another girl is going down on you and you'll compare her to me. Will it make you sad? Will you regret it and wonder what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with?

All these things I'm thinking, but not saying to you. I wrote some of them out in an away message that I know you would see. I erased them, thinking that I shouldn't judge you or your choices, but I can here. I wanted to say in one message that I'm "moving on to bigger and better things...emphasis on the bigger...well, actually emphasis on the better, too," but I didn't say that. Would you know I was talking about you and your warped sense of size? Did a girl lie to you and tell you that you had a monster cock? Did you not get my hint when I made you cum in a matter of a few minutes that you weren't impressive?

I would say best of luck to you, but I really don't wish it upon you. I honestly don't think you deserve it. I'd be lying if I said I was happy for you because I'm not. You'll never hear me say these words to you because it's not worth my energy to contact you, nor would it do any good to tell you how big of a dickbite you are.

Here I am and I have a smile on with a fuck you attitude, because I'm a cunt, and because I can.