I haven't been here since May.
I've taken a lover or a few since then. This is great, for me, as I was in a dry spell, and with my sex drive, that's just fucked.
About them... One of them lives with me, T. He's a mess; a crazy, uncircumcised mess, my male counterpart in many ways. We're so alike, it's scary. We've both said so. Really, he isn't a lover, not anymore. We love each other, but sex is no longer on the table. It's more a platonic, frustrating love. He has zero sex drive, and I'm a sex fiend. My roommates and friends don't care for how he speaks to me, and neither do I, if I'm being honest. I've never talked to anyone that I can recall the way I talk to him. We talk about these things, sometimes. He admits, he's a dick, and he says this and that about changing and getting a job. In fact, today, he did get a job. So I should maybe talk about him better. He isn't always mean or rude or disrespectful. He often has this great smile on his face, and he gives me hugs out of nowhere. He feels vibrations and can sometimes read my mind. He's a talented musician. He gives the best hugs, and I love the way he smells and feels against me, and he holds me perfectly when we sleep at night. He loves to eat pussy, and he's the best I've had at it. I feel safe when I'm around him, though I don't feel like he's safe. Not that he's violent, though sometimes his flashes of rage put me on edge. I just know that I feel more for him than I should. I refuse to say I'm IN love with him, because that's another monster entirely, but it could be something like, being comfortable with someone. I don't want to upset the balance we've got, even if it's not real.
Another is B. Fuck, I should never have fucked B. He has so many fucked things going on in his life right now. He has a daughter with a woman who hates him, and he is so madly in love with her, it hurts to see them when they are together. He's an alcoholic, and this is destroying his life. He is a beautiful man, and I fucked him one night in a school bus out of lust, a little bit of pity, and abandon of reason. Our relationship was always awkward and mostly slanted smiles and darting eyes before. I haven't talked to him since.
Then there's M. Sweet Mary, I was the last to know, he's had a crush on me for nearly a year. He was another awkward one. Awkward silences, stumbling over each other's sentences, or struggling to create them at all. I'd always had this physical attraction to him. He reminds me of Aslan, from Narnia, or a wizard. He's solid, a door, one you cannot access until he allows it. One drunken night a few weeks ago, he kissed me in his kitchen, and I fell into his bed. Only in the last few days has this affair slowed, once my own alcoholism interfered, I think.
Yes, I am definitely an alcoholic, once more. Maybe I never stopped. It seems, once the onslaught of illicit substances tapered off, the drinking intensified. Or maybe the drugs were merely the distraction, the balancing out to how fucked up I really was.
But you have to have money to feed your addictions, kids, and I am fucking broke. It's a lot easier than it may sound to blow a hundred thousand dollars in a matter of two or three years. Especially when you're a drug fiend, addict, and you surround yourself with people of the same like. It doesn't help when you loan them money, and oh, surprise! They never pay you back. It doesn't help when you go through car after car, hotel room after hotel room, ball after ball. You finally decide to "get your life together", get a place to rent, and oh, surprise! You're roommates are shitty drug fiends, too, and they bail. You leave town, go someplace else, not new, it's an old familiar town. But it works. You get another place, new roommates. You don't bother getting a job, though, because you're fucking "rich", you have everything you need to survive for five or ten years. Oh BULLSHIT. You could have invested in the stock market, bought a house, bought a boat, gone to college, gotten a degree, started a business, gotten in shape, lost weight, gotten your fucking life together.
Except you didn't.
Now look where you are. Alone, lonely, still fat, still insecure, sinking back into that familiar, loathesome pit of depression and daily anxiety attacks. Finally got a job at a restaurant, though you're going to need another one, soon. Still have a roof over your head, but your social skills and interpersonal relations with the people you care about the most are failing you. You've had your head up your ass for years. Welcome back to reality. Too bad you can't be honest with your parents. Too bad you're the same sad little girl you were five, ten years ago. You still throw up, if it "feels like the right thing to do", you still drown your thoughts and feelings with alcohol, bury it all in powders and pills. You may have changed, girl, but for fuck's sake, HOW?
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