Well, shit. Here we go again, folks. Day six in this godforsaken living arrangement with Anonymous, and guess what? Yep, you read that title right. I did it. I fucking pounced on my own sibling like a rabid fucking raccoon on Red Bull. Don’t even ask me what the fuck came over me - one minute we were arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes, the next I’m tackling them to the kitchen floor and mashing my face against theirs like some kind of deranged animal. I mean, abso-fucking-lutely no finesse whatsoever. Just pure, unadulterated sister-on-sibling aggression… that somehow turned into sex.
And let me tell you, Anonymous, it was… intense. Like, clusterfuck-of-emotions intense. Part of me was screaming OH MY GOD WE’RE SIBLINGS WE’RE SIBLINGS while the rest of me was all FUCK YES FINALLY. It’s like every single pent-up feeling of frustration and longing just… exploded. And Anonymous? Poor fucker just went along for the ride, because who knows how to process a situation like that? Not this girl, that’s for damn sure. The only thing I’m certain about is that my life is officially a fucking soap opera now.
So here’s where I’m at: sitting in my room at 3 AM with a half-empty bottle of Jack, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to look Anonymous in the eye tomorrow morning without wanting to crawl under a rock and die. Because despite everything - despite the fact that we’re related and this is so fucked up on so many levels - a part of me wants to do it again. And that realization is making me sick to my stomach because what does it even mean? Am I just some sick fucking pervert or is there something more here? Fuck if I know. All I know is that I need another drink.
