anaphase: crippling vyvanse addiction

i consider myself 'seeing someone' although the person I most sexually attracted to is my ~35 yr old lit professor who more resembles a young quentin tarantino crossed with an old john malkovich. malkovich malkovich malkovich. my ideal friday night is drinking red wine with this person and discussing/re-watching charlie kaufmen movies and making him feel pedophiliac(?) when we kiss. this is the only sexual fantasy I'm currently entertaining. thursday night (in olin) i was feverishly thinking about fucking him so much so that i came twice with my bio notes in front of me. the indian guy sitting across from me didn't seem to notice. 

relationship with parents is plateauing in a bad place. i'm trying hard not to care. my hair is falling out all over max's bed and sometimes accidentally into his mouth. i don't want to make him deal with me right now but i do feel like i need someone to pet me and play with my tits. feels good to write about little things like tits and movies but most of the time if im not on amphetamines i just want to sleep or enter a thick tumblr glaze. this pathetic slide is viscous but has a certain sheen. a sheen that comes from not caring about people and having them notice and want attention that is accessed by a circle of ~15 or fewer. this is an arrogant thought but it strikes me often enough and      genuinely enough that I quietly accept it as true. the quiet seclusion that comes from anti-social behavior assures me of my ability to entertain myself and my ability to snap back into an extraverted version of myself. feel only interested in socially connecting further with suitemates, professors, and boy. this could also be a menopausal (read: emotional) post with no grounding in reality. 

this 1.5L of 'barefoot moscato' wine is 'making eyes' at me and I think i'm gonna go ahead and drink the whole thing while pretending to do bio (read: pretending to be a premed to pretend to still care about attending washu to pretend to care about 'the future')