An Emotional Journey

 я сижу каугерл стайл на унитазе и думаю о том, когда мне удастся вырваться. "даю себе ещё один год, до 36..."начинаю и не даю себе закончить, так как понимаю что это не правильно. это не поможет, наоборот. я дам себе время до сорока, думаю я  я представляю себя мягким (не комплимент) 36-39 летним мужчиной, живущим всё ещё здесь, stuck, с мамой. Пример для детей?  я сижу у окна на коленях, на чем то мягком, на шерстяном свитере мамы? и писаю под себя. колени касаются стекла. я рад что окно заперто, а то я мог бы открыть случайно. я спокоен о том, что меня не могут увидеть голым, тк моя писька в тени. я pointedly спокоен об этом. я смотрю, внешнее окно открыто(нет? не знаю что это). и смотрю на ручку внутреннего, и она повернута. открыто? я поворачиваю чтобы закрыть, и у меня получается его открыть. я закрываю и поворачиваю ручку в прежнее состояние. мне кажется я могу случайно его открыть. я продолжаю писать, очень приятно и свободно. но последнее мне почему то стыдно у окна,

 i have a dog now, he is very cute, reminds me a bit of Frosya, i feel calm joy when i play with him. I'm glad we have him. he comes to be pet, his fur is kinky and curly, dense but soft. understanding and friendly, inviting. i don't remember us taking him. it feels like he has been with us no more than two days (is this bc i told mom I'm ashamed of what I've done to her yesterday?)

 Mom was saying i sent a photo of myself instead of the document i needed to send. it was making me angry, in a childhood way.  She came into my room and kept on. I allowed myself to throw nail cutter and a laser pointer at the wall, 1.5 meters away from mom. my uke fell down. She went out of my room, saying "throw at my head next", why did it piss me off so badly? why did i succumbed to the desire to throw a heavy hitting, dangerous pestle. i had an image of doing it right at her head, her head bleeding (or maybe it was later), as  was aiming, i think. I was torn between giving her all ive got, hurting her (the way she hurt me?? is that it), and throwing it behind the door/at something in my room/ but i didnt want to hurt (i meant to say damage) anything in my room and also i didnt want her to not realize i threw it. So i threw the pestle at the door, i hoped it would just hit the dull part and fall, or slide/ricochet and doesnt hit my mom. But to my actual surprise it did,

 Im [verb that expresses instant fear] that Alena didnt receive thee photos of the lake ive sent her (irl ive sent them to Olga <3), AGAIN THE TELEGRAM DIDNT SEND THING AND JUST DELETED IT and OH ive written some things there too! and now i will never recall what thaat was! and will never send them!  Then i realie that ive seen her sent me a photo, first, herself, silently (without a caption), and i just thought it was a rassilka. I go back and look Alena in her apartment. Cyberpunk redesign of her NEW STREAMING PLACE. Very cozy, not the usual jrring rgb dark aesthetic, very calm and HERS. Though its a photo i can see the place in 3d

 I am in my grandparents bedroom, the tv on the window is on. It shows a girl, i aa pink dress, strapless (not really),she is talking about something, being interviewed. I realie she looks like a Alena, so I feel like touching myself looking at her (a possibly pathologic type of desire i keep having lately). She is talking about her old cat, she is asked if he purrs, she says "Oh no, he is VERY old", it tugs on my heart strings. I get almost weepy. I back away and sit down on a couch. My dick is in front of me, pretty big, the shape of it is very well defined (like the guy from wikimedia's testicular masturbatio video ive watched yest.). I think about how Alena didnt come when Murzik died, i get myself angry about it, i suddenly feel justified in my anger, and feel love for her go away, but then i stop and it comes back. And it wasnt real, the anger. even tho it was justified.  I think about how I coulndt go to Moscow to save my life but now its easy for me. and how it wo