Anyway, the kiss was awesome and I know he wanted to go further but he held back, I could tell. And I’m glad he did, too. Not that I wouldn’t, you know, do more, but I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’m ready but I’m not ready. HELP I’M SO SCHIZO!
So the photo shoot, right? I think it went really well. Stephen Macan wasn’t there. I dunno know where he was and I haven’t seen him since that first day. But that’s ok. I’m staying in the apartment (wherever this is, somewhere near Baltimore, remember? Crazy, right?!) Sometime last week I was sleeping in my bedroom and now I’m crashing at this studio. But it’s nice here and I don’t have to go out for anything. Ricardo brings me takeout and there’s a TV and I write in my journal (which I hide btw) so I’m not bored or anything. But I miss my phone. Ricardo says he’s gonna get me a new one and I can’t wait.
Anyway the stupid photo shoot. I keep rambling! It was just me, Ricardo, and some guy named Buggy there. Yeah, you read that right. Buggy. He hardly said a word. Kinda creeped me out. He was this really thin guy who wore one of those hipster hats, sunglasses and a plaid short sleeve shirt with a white undershirt underneath and ripped jeans and he smoked lots of cigarettes which I think is gross. But Ricardo says he’s cool, so I guess he’s cool.
Ricardo took the pictures and Buggy watched and that was fine. All I had to do was sit on the stool and smile. My eyes started to hurt from flash stuff but after it was over, we looked at the pictures and they were nice. I actually have a good smile. Even Buggy agreed.
Today Ricardo and I just hung out on the futon kissing and drinking vodka straight. We talked for hours about things I can’t even remember. Bands, TV shows—just stuff. The TV in the room isn’t as big as my TV at home, but it’s big enough. Ricardo had a Netflix subscription so we binged on a bunch of shows. We did a whole season of Lost, which I had never seen. It was so awesome because I was snuggled up with Ricardo the whole time. I could have been there with him for hours like that. We kissed a lot and we did a bit more, ya know? I don’t need to write it, but it happened. Not IT, but stuff, things.
Is he my boyfriend? I don’t know. I like that he’s taking care of me. He treats me like I’m his girlfriend. He feeds me pretty well, too. There’s a pizza place nearby and a KFC and other places to eat. I made a salad with him one night in the kitchen. It was incredible to just do something so normal like cut vegetables. Go figure! It felt to me like we were a couple. Kinda weird, I know, but I liked it. We just got along. He never calls me Nadine. He calls me Jessica. Jessica Barlow. That’s who I am now.
I still don’t have any money, or my wallet, or my phone. Ricardo went to sell my jewelry, but he said his guy was trying to rip him off so he’s going to wait. That’s fine with me. I don’t want to get taken. Ricardo looks out for me. Last night we hung out together. We drank and I got high for the first time. Now THAT was awesome. I felt so free. It was just weed (I think LMAO) but I was free of all the bullshit. Ya know? Free of everyone judging me. I’ve been missing my home, my room, my stuff, but all that went away. I felt light. Does that make sense?
Ricardo and I made out for who knows . . . hours. It got pretty intense. I had my shirt off and he did too. (AH-Mazing bod!) I’m almost there. Almost ready. I want to do it with him, but I’m scared. I don’t know how it will feel, but I trust Ricardo. He’s looking out for me. He says he loves me.
I got high again. High high high and I liked it. When I’m stoned I don’t miss any of my friends. I don’t miss Sophia, or Hannah, Madison, or Brianna. I don’t think they really get me. At least that’s what Ricardo says. He takes his time to really listen to me. People don’t listen anymore. Ricardo says that, too. They just want things. It’s all about them. I told him about the time Sophia called me a complaining bitch on Facebook. She hurt my feelings but later said it was a joke, and I was cool with it. Ricardo didn’t agree. He said people write online what they really believe. It’s like weed. You’re free to be yourself. You have to think about what you’re going to say before you write it, and that’s true, you do. So Sophia had to think long and hard before she called me a bitch.