I feel like a fucking mess. It’s so fucked up, really, I mean, I haven’t cared about anyone this much in so damn long. Not even my current ex, who I was with for years. So fucked. All I really want to do is see him and hug him and kiss him and I can’t do any of it. I think it’s just been so difficult not just because of how much I care, but because of how much pride I have in myself, and how much I feel pathetic at even an ounce of human emotion towards any man.
silly, I can call a few men right now and I could easily meet up with them. but it feels like it would only make me more depressed. I have this love-and-hate relationship with work, it’s a sanctuary yet it’s like it’s suffocating me at times. But then I get home and am alone and think, I should have worked longer, stayed until my last co-worker leaves. I could call up a friend, but I can’t open up, not at all, this is the best I can do right now.
And even that I can’t do properly, this is my “secret” blog, apart from my main blog. I don’t know why the fuck I have to put up such a front with people, maybe that’s why I get hurt so easily, people think I can take a lot and in reality I’m here, right now, sitting here typing this bullshit, crying somewhat uncontrollably before I have to go meet with someone regarding some work-related shit. I think that’s the worse, putting up a smile and having to work when really all I want to do is lie in bed and drink and rage and call him and text him and tell him again and again that I just want him to come and see me.
I feel I’m at rock-bottom right now, sad and lonely and pathetic and feeling sorry for myself when I know I have a lot of my shit together and can do much better for myself. I think I just allowed all of this to get the best of me and I knew it would and somehow I ignored it and went for it anyway and boom, here I am.
I just want him to call me or text me right now, and tell me he misses me. that’s all I would need to sleep peacefully tonight.
You twist the knife,
then go home and kiss your wife,
a bigger, better slice is what you’d like.
did it to myself,
3 months of hotel rooms every few weeks,
days that carry on amongst the
stupor of cheap champagne,
an old fashioned,
until it is time for you to leave,
but honest it does not bother me.
today is an invention of
those who know that capital
can come from
cells, culture, history,
and they were bound to figure out that
this stupid 4-letter word,
could be, too.
and suddenly this week has become consumed with
images of the two of you
and it pangs me.
those sweet nothings I somehow
consider to be something
come in a flood-rush,
they tug at my arteries.
and there must be something to the notion of
sleeping with other men,
however dull the conversation,
if only to hear their baritone voice or
smell the musk of their necks.
I miss you, I do,
and I think that I love you.
but I fear that’s not enough for either of us
and maybe it is time I
allow myself to implode.
I need to get laid tonight and no one around to fulfill it. Not even my boyfriend. Probably why I’m leaving him.