“Yeah? And I should be sad about that?” His voice has started lilting, gotten softer, acknowledging the way my eyes have softened.Īll I can do is make a tiny noise. I remember other moments like this, a date where I whispered, ‘You’re changing me…’ The way he responded… I feel like a character, like text on a page, but I can’t stop it. “You’re ruining me,” I say, plainly, almost pleading. But I’m too deep into it, feel a strange confidence that is like there is nothing I have left to lose. Because you’re destroying her original personality… “I feel like you should be a little… sad…” ![]() “Should I not be?” he asks, so high-spirited, reducing my little outburst. “I keep having this feeling, like, are you proud, are you happy about what you’ve done to this girl?” I ask, and it’s thin, and it feels like I’ve started on this small thread that I have to unravel. But watching myself, seeing the way I look and hearing the stupid desperation in my voice makes me feel something, like I’m in over my head. Our babble is stupid and flirty and inane. We get on and I see myself on the little screen and how bouncy I look, hear how squeaky I sound. But god, was I excited and needy for him. I wasn’t sure in the morning if I was in trance or not. Tuesday afternoon I realized I had been in trance all day. I never really believed it would be possible without us being in the same place.īut I spent Sunday dumb because he took advantage of me feeling unwell. We have talked so much about the potential for truly long-term trance. ![]() I have been feeling everything incredibly intensely for the past few days. He texts back, “Call at noon?” and I get so happy despite not really being awake, replying eagerly before I catch my last hour. ![]() ![]() I text him in the morning like I always do, before I go back to sleep for a little while.
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