A hand on the back of my neck

I woke up earlier today, although I could have slept better. I think I was worried about sleeping too late. Yes, I did take melatonin, maybe it helped, but I don’t feel it.

Anyway, maybe being tired will make me go to bed earlier, and then be better able to sleep when the boy invites me over this weekend.

If I do that, I’m still divided. And I’m doing better about getting through 2 hands when I say “on the one hand”, or at least I noticed 2 times I actually did.

He’s a really smart guy, although there’s something off about him that I know that I do not like. I know what it is, at least in part, but not in it’s totality. Same thing that’s wrong with my current boyfriend.

Long story short – kind of dumb. Uncreative, uncurious, impatient. Assumes that if there was a way to do something, someone else has done it and he should follow the established order. Unable to fathom taking a box of broken pieces and putting them together to serve a completely novel function. Not at all interested in knowing things that have no actual application for his life – yet.

This is the opposite of me. And honestly, it’s the opposite of what I actually like about myself. There’s a lot that I don’t like about myself, so having someone around that can’t stand the only aspect of myself that I actually enjoy – ok, and I’m undeniably hot – is going to be a problem for me. Like go ahead, nothing personal except that personally, you are ruining any chance I have left for self actualization.

I just realized that I’m here talking about two white men, and I’m pretty sure that’s what’s going on here. So boring.

Anyway, I’m only thinking about this because I fucked the boy last night, and then talked to my boyfriend afterwards. It’s kind of good weekday timing, as the boy goes to bed just in time for me to act like I’d love to stay, and then get home and talk to my boyfriend for an hour until he falls asleep, do my stretch routine, eat again, and go to bed.

And wake up later than anyone can imagine. Thinking about it, these men all take more time than they can possibly deserve. Why do I even do this?

Stating it point blankly, with the complete absence of emotion that I feel like I feel until I realize that I’ve been holding my breath, clenching my jaw, or cracking my knuckles, it looks stupid for me to even be putting myself through this at all.

Sex and money are my only real addictions. Oh, and cigarettes, which I just thought about. Still quitting, I just can’t imagine giving up on that. It’s causing me too much stress, even when I have one it’s barely enjoyable anymore.

I have some physical pain… but I’m afraid to go back to the hospital. They do not view me as a worthy patient, I’m just a practice dummy, and now that they’ve cut me up and show their students the dissection,they just want me to go quietly into the corner and die. Speaking of old white men.

This post is missing it’s target today, and I want to get on with other things. I guess I’ll give it a shot and try and say what I envisioned I’d say, even though it looks stupid here and now, because it is, and I guess I have to be ok with that.

I feel like the boy knows what I’m thinking – not in the omg I’m delusional sense, but he is clearly deeply self aware on some level (if only he allowed himself to go further – and he’s well plugged in to the ambient electrical vibe so to speak.

And I’m pretty sure he knows that I’m conflicted about carrying forward in our relationship. Which is why he makes sure to screw the everliving fuck out of me whenever I’m mentally preparing to check out of situation.

I am so desperate to be understood, even just mentally forming that thought sent a shock and clench through my body. No one will ever even attempt to write a description of what I do to them, like I have done about so many equally uninteresting people in these pages that honestly, no one but me and a few stray spiders are going to read.

I guess I just want to give people what I wish they would give me, and I guess on some level, we all do that to each other. The shame of it is we all want different things, and I definitely do not want what I have been given.

Maybe the boy has no idea what I feel when I fuck him, and that would make a lot more sense. Maybe I just find what I’m looking for, because I’m desperate for it. That makes a lot more sense. And I guess deep down I don’t want to be done with him, and I wish this were more because I do.

Because I’m an idiot and it is clear that this man is just going to show me how to break my own heart.

Apparently I do feel things. I don’t know how to get over that.

I have to go back to work.

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