😢 My Anxiety Makes Me Feel Like I Have No Life 😢

How To Get Fucked Like An Artist

I like to find myself in other people, by putting them into my body and calling it experience.

As a creative millennial, there’s nothing I enjoy more than thinking nothing and fucking everything. There’s nothing I enjoy more than expanding my pussy in tandem with my horizons. I like to find myself in other people, by putting them into my body and calling it experience.

I want to get fucked like an artist. I want to have my vag dogged down by the biggest cock I can find. I want to be blown out like the candles at the holocaust museum. I want to be stretched to my limits like a sweaty, diabetic sock around an edematous foot. I want my pussy to hang loose and bloody, like a parachute that deployed wrong and sucked it’s wearer through a jet engine. I want it to pop like an overfilled water balloon. I want it to pop like someone smacked a tube of Pillsbury Grands against a counter top.

I want to be folded over like a playing card table at the end of boys’ night – covered in beer and spit and cigarette burns. I want my pussy to be cursed at, and used as a sounding wall to vent about failed marriages. I want to be casually abused and put away in the work shed. I want to get fucked so someone doesn’t beat their kids. I want to get fucked so someone can keep their job.


I’m carrying something deep within me, something that feels heavy and haunted, something I’ve tried so desperately to control and manage on my own.

For The Sin You Can’t Talk About


I want to get fucked so hard my perineum tears. I want it sewn back up, and then I want to get fucked so hard that I hear the stitches pop like shower curtain rings as I collapse in the tub.


5 Zodiacs About To Be Hit With A Sunburst Of Cold Hard Cash

When you randomly come across some money: it feels like the universe is giving you a little gift, a reminder that sometimes, good things just happen out of the blue.

You should check if your zodiac sign is one of them here.


I want my pussy walls to shred like a semi tread and fly out of my body at sixty miles per hour. I want it to smash through the window of a minivan and decapitate a mother and her kids. I want my pussy on the local news. I want there to be outrage. I want there to be mourning. I want little white crosses on the side of the road so that every time I drive by, I can remind myself that I got fucked so hard I killed a family.

I want to fill my pussy with bees. I want a thousand stingers pressed into my walls at the same time. I want to go into anaphylactic shock, and slip into a coma. I want the bees to set up camp in my swollen pussy. I want them to fill it with wax and cause alarm when some neighborhood kids are hospitalized after playing too close to it. I want the parents to petition city hall to do something about my problematic pussy. I want city hall to hire an exterminator. I want the exterminator to gas my pussy, and scoop out all the dead bees and honey. I want them to seal it off, and hide it from future children and future bees. I want stories of my bee pussy to become apocryphal legend. I want my pussy to be summer camp lore. Something the kids speak of before lights out, to scare each other.

I want an STD. I want all of the STDs. I want one of those sex-education-cautionary-example disaster pussies. I want my pussy to look like a haggard, variegated mess of spots and fur. I want my pussy to look like all 101 Dalmatians beaten to death at once. I want Cruella De Vil to inquire about my pussy, ask how it’s coming along, and eventually conspire to kidnap my pussy so she may wear it as a coat.

I want my STD pussy to look like a big bowl of Pho, muddled with too much Sriracha and hoisin sauce, over flavored and contaminated. I want to show it off to my white friends and tell them they’re pronouncing it wrong. I want to spill it all over the table and tip poorly. I want to take what’s left of my pussy to go, forget it at the back of the fridge, and let it rot next to the vegetables that I buy but don’t eat.

I want to get fucked so hard that my uterus prolapses, pokes its head out of my crotch like Porky Pig, and tells folks that’s all.


I want to define myself with my pussy, eschew meaningful experience, practice yoga, and fold myself into my pussy. I want to live in there, among my decisions and my rationalizations, complimenting myself for my creativity while wasting my life. I want to get fucked like an artist. [tc-mark]

About the author

I like recipes and my kids.