Well, it’s time for me to accept who I am and what I am good at. I am good at the morbid, gruesome perversions that most keep within. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
Some of you know me.
Me for who I am.
Who I am inside.
Inside of this shell of façade.
I yearn for you, ache for you, throb at the thought of your smile. A simple, innocent smile at me.
I have just completed the entire outline for the second book in the Wicked series, and let me tell you something fuckhead … I need this. I can’t take it anymore. I have to let it free.
I smile. I smile again. I am that sweet girl at work everyone looks forward to seeing. Wow. Narcissist much? Seriously, though. I dream and fantasize and yearn for things you would rather vomit at than consider yummy.
I sit in my car, and I wait … I know it’s time to get out and walk into work, but I can’t help it. I have to jot down one more note. One more idea. One more slice of terror that does it for me.
I miss everything I once was. I need to release this inner explosion before it catches up to me and devours some poor, worthless soul.
You know the one I’m talking about, right? The one who will suffer because I cannot have you. The one I will crush because I cannot taste you.
Now … Let’s define you. Or should we? Perhaps You is nothing more, or nothing less, than the idea of taking what isn’t mine. The object or idea or act that eludes me.
I do this, don’t I? I rant and rave and go off on tangents, the kind I can’t seem to find my way back from.
You see, I was going to work on one last project this year. I’ve already published two novels this year, and the thought of putting together a fluffer for Christmas made me happy …
And then it hit me! BAM!
Fuck all that noise. I’m going to write this fucking book and you, my sweetness, will hopefully masturbate to the festering flesh and homicidal transformations that will transpire on the pages to come.
I have considered … What should I do to reward a precious fan who just can’t seem to get enough of me or the words I’ve so carefully chosen?
Details to come .. And cum you shall. Because that’s what it will take to win a small sliver of me.
Feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org … let me know what you think .. what you desire.
Until then ~ … Tilly.