I made this picture. Now I’m trying to figure out what it means. This is not going to be a long post, because I don’t know what to write. But I know what I feel. Bear with me, I’ll close my eyes, and let my fingers type what goes through my head.

I don’t belong here. I don’t even want to be here anymore. And now the world is closing in on me. I thought I could just return to Germany and we’d be fine. Now it looks like that isn’t going to be so easy. The pandemic is totally fucking my over. By myself, I might be able to cope with it. That’s hard enough. But I’m no longer by myself.

I just want to escape. Run away, just disappear. Be in a place nobody knows. That’s when I get stupid. But it felt so good until I realized how close to the edge I was.

Don’t ever do any kind of edgeplay by yourself. Breathplay is a thrill for two, not for one.

I can’t sleep. Nothing turns me on, nothing sparks even the slightest bit of interest in me. I couldn’t masturbate. Nothing worked. I pull out my gasmask, look at it, and don’t turn back. Inside is my place to hide. I’ve done it a hundred times, but never when I wanted to run away so badly. Just the gas mask isn’t good enough tonight.

There is a plastic bag; some duct tape. I’ve done this before, but never at night. The bag is tight over my head, and a pencil works to punch a small breathing hole through it. Then cames the duct tape. Some people use strips, but I just keep wrapping it around my head. The pencil holds the hole open.

I don’t care how tight it is, the tighter the better. My jaw is locked in place by the time the tape runs out. I barely have enough sense to fold the end over so I’d find it again. I have emergency scissors but don’t bother looking for them. Stupid me.

Breathing is not too bad. Before the gas mask makes it harder. I brake off the little rubber tip at the end of the pencil. It could inside the hole at the end of the rebreather.

I’m on autopilot. Running away without thinking where I’m going. I try to think of something erotic, but nothing comes up. My head only feels the panic of being stuck in a place I don’t want to be.

The rubber tip requires a bit of pushing to get into the end of the rebreather bag. The only opening to the rest of the world. My brain is a blank, just panic and a desire to get away from here. Away from this hell.

I can’t breathe anymore. My sweatpants fly off in a second; I haven’t masturbated in days. No air. I couldn’t blow out the rubber plug, and the thought of taking off the gas mask doesn’t even enter my mind.

Passing out is just a fantasy, nothing I’ve ever experienced. I have no idea how long I can stay alert without any air, but then, I’m not looking for air. The point of the gas mask was to keep me away from it, running out doesn’t frighten me one bit.

Now I want to come. Now I wanted to escape in an orgasm. It had been so long that I don’t even have to try.

Not that I have much time.

I’m probably close to passing out when that familiar feeling of a good orgasm built up in my pussy. I can tell it’s not going to be great, but it will do. Just a few more seconds. Don’t let me pass out now.

I didn’t. But I was stupid. I could have and that would have been it. I was stupid, but I had my reasons. I know what those reasons feel like, they are not rational. That makes it worse, they are impossible to fight off. Can I say that I won’t be stupid again? No, not as long as the world around me is so fucked up.

WickedWednesday