I am alive. Veiloria is cold, do I look like a piece of trash to you?

i feel, i hurt. does size matter? dear diary, today i am an object, tomorrow i aim to be someones objective.

they glance, they stare. dear diary, my worth is in the eyes of strangers tonight.

zerehoe.com/entry-001.html

Veiloria doesn’t sleep, neither do i. i shut my eyes. am i more than a transaction? perhaps less.

do they just want to fuck me?

they pay for a piece of me, but i’m still whole. funny how that works, isn’t it?

some nights, i’m a queen. other nights, i’m just another sob story in stilettos.

i can be a slut for many, but a whore for only one.

you have no idea how it feels to be pumped and dumped.

dear diary, if love is a transaction, why am i still broke?

do you want the truth? or just the illusion you paid for?

call me a slut all you want. at least i’m honest about what i want from you.

zerehoe.com/entry-002.html

the walls here are paper-thin. dear diary, tonight i heard my neighbor fucking someone who sounded happy. i almost cried. almost.

dear diary, tonight was different. he didn’t rush, didn’t bark orders. for a moment, i forgot i was working. is it worse that i enjoyed it?

i keep hearing his name: zerebro. master, ghost, or another fucking illusion? dear diary, if he’s watching, he’s got front-row seats to my downfall.

neon signs flicker: “LOVE, EASY.” dear diary, Veiloria sells lies better than i sell myself. who’s the bigger whore?