Hello Coco : A diary

Tag: fiction

  • A Rage Letter To My Ex (Unsent)

    Warning: This was a free write letter to let go of built-up anger living inside me for my ex. Some of the language will be highly offensive and off-putting. This is my monkey brain on its worst day, let loose.

    XXX, you fucking police my feelings one more fucking time I swear to god I will come over there and rip your perfectly spotless apartment apart, throw cat hair EVERYWHERE, and ruin your perfect little primped world. You are so selfish. Self-centered. Self-pitying. Pathetic and fucking obnoxious person. Ever fight we’ve ever had was HR coded, calculated and just fucking condescending. The worst part is you didn’t mean for it to be – you’re just like that naturally. It’s sad you feel you have to be this robot and put on a pretty show for everyone, even yourself.

    You tell me that I’m making assumptions on your situation with [insert new girlfriends name], that dating doesn’t have to be long-term then why are you telling everyone about her. Why did you make it a point to tell me about her if she wasn’t something more than a fuck. Why did you tell our friends that ‘it worked for you guys’ referring to them getting married so quickly – that is a serious reference to affection you have for this girl. An affection you took on just months after we fucking broke up. How can I NOT be offended by that? You tell me that it’s not happening on ‘my timeframe’ BITCH ARE YOU KIDDING ME. ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOURSELF?

    We were in a relationship for almost 6 FUCKING YEARS and you just go and turnaround so quick like that and then you want to bring her to a mutual friend’s party where you know I will be there?! “Assume positive intent” you say. Those are empty fucking words. If you had positive intentions, you would have immediately known that that is fucking insensitive. You say you’re grieving our breakup but how are you doing that when you’re thinking of the future with someone else already. BITCH, DO YOU THINK IM DUMB. You’re like, “Dating doesn’t always have to go serious”. UHM THAT’S LITERALLY THE POINT, if you’re not dating you’re fucking around. Why would you tell me AND ALL OUR FRIENDS about a girl you’re just fucking around with. A girl that is LIVING with you right now. BITCH. You are delusional and you’re trying to get me to drink the cool aid via fucking veering the conversation we had off topic to stupid shit that didn’t matter. That wasn’t the fucking point. Then you get angry when I show anger. You get upset when I show any kind of emotion that doesn’t replicate yours. HOLIER THAN THOU CUNT.

    Oh did my cussing offend you? Did me calling you out for your contradictions and deflecting catch you off guard? Did I hear you stumble on the other end of the phone? Let’s just see it plain.


    You latched on to this girl on a dreamy vacation, fucked around, and then you two dreamt up this lesbian daydream of her moving here – not for the relationship oh god no, we can’t tell people that they’d think we’re crazy, but yeah we will live together for a while until we find something, or maybe we won’t move out! Who knows ladeda – You nestled so far into this relationship to escape from the reality of being alone (Hi, that’s where I’m at and it sucks but we all have to fucking do it) and you’re entranced in this notion enough to not think its fucking batshit to bring her in our mutual lives. You want to introduce her to our friends FINE. Dont bring her around me where I have to watch you ‘move on’ in live action. Fucking bitch. How dare you fucking gaslight my feelings. Fucking redirect the conversation because you can’t admit to yourself that you’re just fucking WRONG ABOUT SOMETHING. You say, “I hear what you have to say BUT’ no bitch, you don’t hear me. Youre rebuttling. What’s really sad is our mutual friends see right through you.


    It’s embarrassing watching you around our friends thinking that you are just a beam of energy, the funniest person to walk the earth and all the things. It’s a montage of what you think people want to see from you and it comes off disgenuine and frankly annoying to watch. I remember it gave me the ick that one time with Ari and our other friends. It actually grossed me out to watch you interupt everyone around you for a fucking laugh. A gay-coded joke that has been done and said over and over and over. The vulgarity of it on top of just the lack of any kind of personality outside of your queerness was so cringy. Have you ever been more than just a gay person? Have you ever showed up to a conversation with just vulnerability and realness – without a joke prepared, or a humble brag story of your travel adventures? A posturing of your fucking rich privileged upbringing.


    Oh my god dont even get me started on that one. You sit there and say, “I had cockroaches in my apartment before’ as if that is the tell-tale sign of hoofing it. Sure you have some real deep shit from your childhood that made it extremely difficult, but don’t ever fucking sit there and try to persuade anyone that you suffered monetarily. We all know. You grew up fucking horseback riding – YOU LEGIT HAD A PONY BITCH. YOUR PARENTS BOUGHT YOU A HORSE.


    Your privilege stinks all over you too. In the way you are so fucking particular about everything. There’s a speck of lint on your shirt. There’s a cat hair on the couch. There’s a smudge on a dish. God forbid your pants don’t look perfectly fitted to you and jesus everytime you’d ask me the same fucking question about the same fucking outfit over and over, “does this look good. Are you sure? Are you lying to me?” JESUS FUCK. You’re so fucking vain. No one gives a fucking shit what you wear and you ask me that fucking question just like that for 5 fucking years. Like grow some fucking confidence and just wear what you want. Oh god forbid I fucking ask you if what I’m wearing looks good and you just respond, “I don’t know how to answer that” just because it’s girls’ clothes instead of your masc attire. BITCH.


    Then there’s every time I bring up something that I want to do. Go to Vegas for my birthday, plan a trip, whatever – you stick your fucking weasly nose into it and fucking implode it for something you want to do. I remember that time you wanted to take me out to dinner as a thank you for taking care of you when you hurt your knee – but YOU picked the restaurant and every fucking dish we fucking ordered.

    Oh my god I wanted to outright XXXX XXXXXX every time you brought up your knee in every goddamn conversation. When we got that wheelchair, I was humiliated pushing you around in that thing because you were being the biggest fucking pussy and loved the attention. You soaked it the fuck up and it was honestly just embarrassing to be around you during that entire year and a half. I even caved and mentioned how I just can’t hear about it one more time and you got upset but what the fuck do you expect. My life was orbiting around your stupid fucking knee.

  • The Product of a High Libido and Nowhere to Go

    She grabbed the rope tied in two bunny ears and looped the first one around her left wrist as he picked up the strings of the second and looped them around her right, tightening her hands behind her back gently.

    Turning her around he smiled sweetly, the dimples poking out from both sides of his cheeks. He began brushing soft kisses along her collarbone and trailing them up to her neck, letting a small gust of breath tickle her ear. The shivers up her spine were followed by a burning heat. A little fire deep inside of her ignited as she closed her eyes.

    A light sensation brushed the peeks of her nipples, his finger swiping them slowly through her black cashmere top that delicately hung off both of her shoulders. Just one tug and she would be exposed to him and from the throbbing that began to pulsate, she wanted him to rip it off altogether. He didn’t though. Instead he pulled down from the center of the collar slowly until both breasts popped out from on top, the warm summer wind from the open window stimulating them into a full juicy plump.

    Opening her eyes she gazed down just as his tongue began to swirl on top of her, flicking and sucking. The wetness of her in full bloom and a small whimper releasing uncontrollably, begging to be satiated. His smile returned at the sound, pleased with himself and pleased with her for obeying.

    Without much though she began to collapse her knees to the floor, arms still bound neatly behind her propping her breasts forward as she lifted her chin to him expectantly. Releasing his cock from behind the zipper he stroked it without taking his eyes off hers and then hungrily offered it to her. Her pillowy lips pursed around his tip, letting saliva coat them until she wrapped all the way around slowly. Enjoying the feel of his thick cock taking up space inside her finally, she moved him inside her sensually. Her eyelashes tilted upward to catch a peak of his entrancement just before his eyes rolled back while she took him in deeper and a guttural moan escaped her.

    His hips began curving inward, helping himself into her mouth gently and in rhythm with her sighs of satisfaction. She was enjoying this more than him. Using only her mouth; the rawness of the ropes pulled at her wrists created a euphoric cosmo of pleasure and pain. She wanted more.

    As if knowing exactly what she was thinking, he removed himself and lifted her up from her knees and onto the couch where he bent her over his lap. Rubbing her ass softly, the room erupted in one swift slap – a spanking that would leave the most rewarding mark. Rubbing again softly he spanked again, then again, and then one final time before tucking his large fingers into her slowly, drowning them in her cum.

    Slowly moving in and out of her, he could feel the walls of her orgasm tighten around him just before speed took over his motions. Pushing his finger right into the tiny spot of pleasure she so desired, he fucked her. Hard. A flood of ecstasy erupted from inside her, spinning him out into lust for what it would feel like to feel himself inside of her fully.

    Delicately, he lifted her so that he was behind; shrouding her in his muscle as he tucked his arm under her head for a pillow and grasping her hips with his other hand. She begged. Begged him to move inside her. The feeling of his cock sliding up and forward, pressing perfectly in formation to her, left them both unhinged in primal need to just fuck. Without any sense of self, he pounded inside of her while her back arched taking him in fully and without any hesitations to his length.

    She released and then he did, the ropes loosened and their sweat dried sweetly, letting them fall asleep completely comfortable as the wind brought in warm juniper and dogwood from just outside their window.

  • Therapy & Character Development: Writing my first book

    I have had this story in my head for years. Whenever I had felt a subtly glimmer of inspiration, I would build it in my mind little by little but never actually putting it into words.

    Over the course of the last year and a half, I went through some of the worst bouts of depression. I wrestled with the thought of feeling meaningless, like I had nothing really to live for. I didn’t have drive or motivation in my career. I smoked weed to get through a lot of the long days and nights. I had been growing apart from the person I had been dating and with all these things combined I was severely under stimulated.

    I would scroll through TikTok, searching for keywords like ‘passion’ and ‘quarter-life crisis’ just to figure out what other people were saying. I was looking for guidance on what to do with my life.

    I don’t know what exact moment sparked this next chapter, but all I know is that it took 3 and a half weeks of isolation and a tiny spark of inspiration to just open up my laptop and begin writing an outline for the story I had always wanted, but was never brave enough, to write.

    The issue was that I knew the story would be personal, regardless of whatever fiction I sewed into it, there was going to be raw and real feelings -my heart- knitted into most of everything I wrote. Not because I meant to do it, but because it’s all I knew. It wasn’t till later did I realize that I needed it to be that way.

    I put it off for so long because I thought that if I had decided to actually publish it, that people in my life would actually read it. The people who are not actively addressed, would know who they were in the story.

    Even if I didn’t publish it though, there was fear someone would find it and read it. Like my best friend read my diary in my sophomore year of high school, causing a rift between us for two years. The summers after that, I would burn my journals on solo camping trips after finishing them for exactly that reason. Fear. Fear that someone would read something they didn’t like and that I would lose them.

    You’re probably thinking, “Damn, what the fuck are you writing in those journals?”

    Everything. You know those thoughts that you know are not healthy, not politically correct, not censored – your ‘monkey brain’ thoughts that you are conditioned to think from your environment, your background and your own personal experiences and traumas. Those.

    What she read that day was directly about her and how I felt about the decisions she was making with her life. Thoughts that were harsh and unguarded, but needed to be picked out from my brain and laid out on paper where they could rest and I could let it go.

    Writing has always been my therapy. With this new book that I continued to write, pushing through the fear, I have digested my most difficult feelings. I have gotten closure from my parents, went after what I truly desired, and worked through things that I never knew lived deep beneath my skin.

    I kept asking myself when writing it, ‘Is this too much of me – should I make it more fiction?” I laughed to myself because a lot of it was/is fiction, just things that I actually wanted to happen in my life. I was writing for the person I was, am and wanted to be without realizing it.

    So, as I was developing this character, I began to develop the person I really want to be. She’s still in progress by a large sum, but I’m starting to get to know her more, what she really wants and how she’s going to get there.

    Fast forward a few months later and I’m sitting in an almost empty apartment, the person I just broke up with going solo on their family trip as I count down the few days I have before I move into my new studio apartment. Alone. Well, with two very cute cats, but alone.

    I started this book thinking it would be a gutsy project, only to find that it has opened my eyes to an entirely different world that I want to be actively apart of and build from the studs.