I look at the puddle of mess in my hands, soaked cotton, and the limp mass of tissue. I feel disgusted and stupid for what I was ecstatic and euphoric over a few seconds ago, a few spasms ago, a few images ago. How come I never get sick of this. As if I awaken and come to my senses every time right after my last spasm, and realize it was all for nothing. But yet before the climax I forgot all of the promises I made to myself and my future. When am I going to break this habit? My mind has thousands of images - images of naked bodies, people in bedrooms. When am I going to stop?
It's going stop NOW.