I am only just beginning to get a grasp of how emotionally dependant I am.  What happened to me?

It is creepy to be honest, very creepy.  I feel like I tossed myself in a pit of orgasmic cocaine; can’t walk away from it.  I desire to belong to someone and the frustration outlet is…well, an orgasm- whether it’s from clasped hands or deep within the passion pit of a woman I least give a damn about.

The almost apathetic way I handle this is turning me into a heartless Casanova. I am scared -very scared!

Their gullibility is appalling! Why do they believe me so? They lay their brittle hearts on the floor for me to tread on. I am not at fault.  I AM NOT!

I am you say.  How dare you accuse me! I didn’t ask them to believe my words and promises!  I don’t believe in them myself. I always promised myself I wouldn’t pick another cookie from the jar; I was smart enough to know mother would notice that the cookies were fleeing.

We had a noble servant of a cat. I suppose no rat is smart enough to beat a cat and unscrew a jar lid.

I knew this but still I munched on those chocolate chip cookies- those chocolate buds.  I would lick, lick, melt it all up and let the paste linger on my deceitful tongue- the transcendent joy- euphoria they call it; such jargon! I don’t have time jargon!

I’d dig deeper into those crumbs for more chips.  That sweet chip full of life; its pulse sends joy along my elongated tongue. She begins to squirm. Stop. We can’t drop any crumbs, you nymph!

She holds my head, this nymph. She demands justice for her chocolate chipped cookie. Such an impatient jar she is, this nymph! Why? Oh why did I have to unscrew that lid in the first place?

Mother will know!  Too many cookies devoured. A malignant cookie aroma grasps the air around me. Mother must know.  The jar lays empty by my side; the cat is toying around with the lid. Kill the cat! HAHAAAAAAA!


Am I this far gone? I’m I this enslaved to immediate gratification? Reason, man!  Reason!  Get rid of the jar. There were no cookies to begin with, you hear me?  There was no cookie! No jar and definitely no chips!

Deny, deny, DENY!

Cookies were meant to be devoured. Devour till your fill, then deny. Goddamn it!  Deny till you rupture you’re fucking your lungs! Stain that innocent face with tears, tag on her hem, give up anything and everything; she must believe there were no cookies.

Mom knows there were no cookies. You told her there were no cookies. She believed you.

Now fall asleep you angel, we won’t eat any more cookies, will we now? No we won’t!

by AnonymousGuestWriter

N.B- the above post is by one of our readers – who prefers to remain anonymous. if you have a piece of writing you’d like to share on SZ, email it to us- anonymously or otherwise.



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