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Look at me. I wasn't always like this. I used to sleep at night and get up in the morning and go work. I used to feel what I touched, and I used to mean what I said. Now I don't. There is nothing behind my eyes and if you look real close you can tell. I'm the guy you pass by at 3:48 on a Wednesday afternoon and have no idea that really I'm not there.
My name isn't Anastasia. My name is Zoe. And it feels like shit to pretend to be somebody that I'm not.
I want to know about your father because I want to know how a girl like you from a school like that ends up on the other end of a live cam from fifty something unemployed former builders who are smashing their semen plated keyboards with their fat fucking fingers while their wives are out vibrating to 50 Shades of Grey. I want to know how long it takes my congressman to cum. And I want to know whether he even lets you use his Uber account or if he just tosses a twenty at you for safe measure. I just want to know how it feels.
I want to know how a girl like you from a school like that ends up on the other end of a live cam from a middle aged unemployed former carpenter who's smashing
Oh, no, no, no. Don't lie to me. We don't like liars, do we. No, no. No lying.