Sasha suffers identity crisis

Maybe waning would be better.

Here I sit, oddly obsessing over what I don't even want. What it boils down to, I am confident enough to admit, is that I want the attention, not the boy himself. At least it started that way, it always starts that way. But, attachment to the attention leads to attachment to the boy leads to an awful sense of jealously when he plays to her whims and not my own.

I have too many boys on strings to be staring at this picture so often.

It's odd though, I only want him to want me, I don't actually want him. This makes sense, right?

It's not about the boy, it's just about the boy.

Shit. No, no, no.

What was a dangerous possiblity, a beautiful potential for mistake, will stay that way. It must.

This imagining, this use of Deskey in my art, my work, is too dangerous. The thought of risking the thought is too much an pulls me out of the moment. I will not.