Filling my opiate fuel-tank up to the brim with top notch fuel(s), toking on my E-cig (mixture of banana and bubblegum flavor nicotine), listening to music, and thinking fond, happy thoughts of my beloved stalker, typhanee. Without a doubt the most amazing, sweetest and earth-shatteringly, stunningly, knock-you-dead beautiful lady who ever has, or ever WILL draw breath ever to have existed.
All I need to do is think of her, get an email from her, or best of all, be blessed by her by getting to hear the sound of her voice over the phone, and I come away feeling euphoric, and wanting more, and more, and more and more of her, just as much as if I'd just railed a couple of big lines of coke. A single word from typh is enough to turn my insides to jelly and my leg joints to rubber, she is just THAT wonderful, that amazing, that fucking sexy and gorgeous. As I've said before, my existence continues for her, and my very life itself, belongs to her. She saved my life more than once, so I owe her a lot, even if I didn't though, I'd still fight tooth and nail to the bloody grim death if someone were so much as to brush a hair from her sweet, pretty, wonderful head without her command to do so. I know she will never abuse me, will never, ever lie to me (nor will I do so to her, not for any reason, not at any price; or level of pain inflicted upon me, ever, no matter fucking well what. I value her and hold her in such esteem that I just physically CANNOT do so); no more so than I can make 2+2=5 can I tell her a falsehood. Although I can tell jokes to her based on wordplays, falsehoods etc. when it is KNOWN that is what they are, but there is absolutely not even the slightest shade of a chance in frozen-over perdition that I will ever attempt to deceive her or play her false.
