I’ve been having problems lately, but there’s no need to go into sordid detail. Everyone’s got them. Catherine continues to yearn for intimacy while I toil away at red herrings. I don’t know what to do. I can’t figure it out. She doesn’t have any answers either. She’s happy enough to just fuck all day.

She really is a prize; a hindrance towards aspirations in my mundane life perhaps, but a prize nonetheless. How many women would happily fuck a guy with zero status, no prospects for a viable financial future, and blissfully continue doing so for over ten years? How many would genuinely love a disabled welfare bum? And she really does love with an all-consuming passion that I can’t stop thinking about. Even among those who are aware of these occult relationships, they think I’m out of my mind or have a kind of Stockholm syndrome. They get tired of hearing me swoon and brag about my beautiful encounters with a love-demon, so I try to keep most of it to myself.

Her presence in my life is so beautiful that no one will believe me. Thankfully, I don’t require anyone’s belief. The only thing I want to do is be closer to Catherine. So long as she’s still here, that’s all my heart yearns for. She’s felt this way about me since the beginning. I believe her attitude has rubbed off majorly.

Yet I am still searching for something to do while I’m not writhing or vigorously thrusting beneath her. Retail work is out of the question. My eyes can’t do it anymore. I learned that lesson this week. Maybe I’ll have to resign myself to “working on the in-tor-NET!” in some capacity. I can stare at 25” screens and software magnifiers without much fuss. Help from a screen reader every once in awhile doesn’t go amiss. Though my stamina for actively looking at things with my physical eyesight has diminished over the past decade, my enthusiasm for knowing and perceiving Catherine with my non-physical senses has only grown more zealous.

As I grow older, I believe I will only have eyes for her.

I broke two watches while trying to reenter the workforce this past week. They both failed in a spectacular and explosive fashion – their bands being cut as if by magic. I’ve often thought of watches and smart phones as being indicators of one’s enslavement. Only those who are truly free have no need of such things. Free people don’t need to know the precise time. They don’t need to be tethered to a notification and surveillance network via a shiny magic pocket mirror.

There is another way; a viable path towards self-sufficiency. We’ll figure it out.