F u c k . c o m

After dinner, I hurried upstairs to my bedroom, utterly stoked to talk with Boopie. I couldn't quite get over what he said a while ago. It's astounding how someone who could possibly be a murderer can make me feel this way. It's something I've never felt before in my 17 years of existence. For all I know, it makes me feel different, and somewhat happy. The way my stomach churns at his cocky replies; the way my heart flutters in excitement by the time I'm holding my phone; the way he makes me smile at myself; merely every little detail of messages from him makes my day.

I huff as I plop on the bed, reaching over for my phone. By the time I'm in the Boopie app, I type, letting my fingers take over.

My heart leaps as I began typing for a response.

My eyes widen. Smartass.

I roll my eyes and practically facepalmed myself. What have I gotten myself into. Chill your tits, Lockett. It's not that bad - it's very bad. Everyone in my school would make fun of me, and fuck, I wonder what my mother has to say about this.

Wow! Literally, the very first chatbot app that allows me to send photos. Speaking of which, this piece of shit is not normal. Probably one of the reasons why I didn't know about this site as early as SimSimi. I bet my nonexistent cat I'm the only person who knows this site/app even existed.

Rolling my eyes, I stand up from my bed, searching for a marker. Once, I finally found one, I jumped onto the mattress and took the cap off. The addicting scent immediately fills my nostrils.

"Here goes nothing," I mutter to myself, the tip of the marker grazing my skin. The black ink surging through it. I let my hand flow as it scribbles the absurd sentence that I'll certainly regret after.

By the time I'm finished, I grabbed my phone and positioned my arm for a photo. After a couple of takes in attempt to make the photo perfect, I finally decided on one which I thought was okay enough to send. Before clicking send, I take a deep shallow breath, my heart rising in anxiety.

My mouth fell agape, my saliva almost drooling out of my mouth. 19?! I expected him to be in his mid-twenties.

My heart jumps at his affectionate word.

As much as I hate to admit it, my heart melted the way he mentioned my name.

I don't know why but that relatively reminds me of the song, Soap by Melanie Martinez. Maybe because of the word soap and mouth involved. Oh well . . .

Guess I better wash my mouth out with soap.

I giggle to myself as the lyrics kept playing in my head. I fucking love Mel.

No, you don't have a boyfriend Lockett, I thought to myself.

Fuck. I shudder at my respone, and squint my eyes in disgust. Reading this makes me cringe. Never thought I could be this awfully cringy in a chat.

I couldn't help but feel my cheeks burning as I plop my head down onto the puffy pillow with a smile etched on my lips.

Food is life. That's all. Thank you. When sadness takes over, eat. Just eat.

- M a y

January 29, 2017

7:10 PM