I was so tired today, I’ve been so tired lately. The world is opening back up and I am not ready, I am not ready to once again be in4 states in a week, I am not ready to have to pretend to care about all of the things that I just clicked away and thought about something else.
I had dreams last night which were actually pretty cool, and it kind of showed me that maybe I’m not ready to commit to the boy. Even though my horoscope said that I should, I know me better than a random astrologer does <=== this is always where I go about screwing up my own life.
I am not good at committing. It’s not a paradox of choice type situation, I just want something better, and don’t know if I deserve something better. If I would be something better. I know that this makes me sounds like an asshole, but it’s true. It occurs to me that this was always how I felt about my ex, though he was legitimately a piece of trash. I think I’m more afraid of being trapped that way again than anything else, and whatever reason I come up with is just covering that fear. It looks so much better to me, in the mirror, to be an asshole than to be afraid.
I think I’m going to run away from him. So dumb, but I don’t know if I can stop myself.
Last night, I dreamed we were at an orgy and he freaked out. He freaked out in a calm controlled way, meaning that he disappeared to the bar and never came back, avoiding me the entire night. Of course, the orgy wasn’t that much fun anyway, I had more been putting on a show for him so that he would think that I was interesting. <=== there I said it.
Overall, it was a terrible time (I mean Nina Hartley was there and trying to fuck me, , but I will see about recounting this one part…
It became apparent to me that whatever sexy time was happening was over. The bed was littered with straps and toys, and other people were coming into the hotel room and conversing on the peripheral furniture.
So, I went upstairs to the courtyard (I’m trying to place where this hotel was) and went to the bar. It was raised very high, in a tower actually, a giant hexagon bar the likes of which I have seen in Jamaica (I should check on that place). People were around it, and then I saw this extremely handsome, extremely tall stranger, with arched eyebrows and a top hat (actually he looks like someone I had talked to on OK Cupid before I realized how weird everyone there is). Perfectly my type, amazingly perfect. I squeezed my way through the bar crowd next to him, determined to shoot my shot no matter what. I asked him if he could place an order for me, as I was way too short to make eye contact with this ridiculously high bar. The then lifted me up to the semi platform around the bar so I could sit there, and I was hoping to talk to him.
A slightly less tall blonde man, who I believe he was rolling with and I had pushed past in order to talk to the hot man, leaned back against the bar between me and my target, who had moved his attention to someone else.I want to write more but my coffee is done. I’m in a rush out today.
Honestly, I feel that this was a very authentic dream, and this is what I would do in real life.
Therefore, I feel terrible for every man who has tried to commit to me.
Oh, and visa versa.
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This dream… and the slightly less tall blonde man.
So I’ve got a date with a viking this week… 6’4″ with blue eyes and tons of tatoos… so hot. I’m going to go for it.
Shoot my shot no matter what.
The boy’s going to have to sit back on this one, idc.
I love him, he’s great, but I’ve got a life I have to live here. I don’t care if it’s the biggest mistake I’ve ever made or am ever going to make, I can’t make myself not do it.
I’m smart. I know my right from wrong, and I’m usually right. However, I also don’t care, and this is how I screw up my life over and over again. I live my life like it’s going to be a made for TV miniseries someday. And movies always have unfortunate mistakes, wild chances, last minute saves, and lots of plot twists. A long boring movie about someone who always does the right thing…
That simply wouldn’t sell.
I just thought about the girl who’s name I’ve taken here, she could have been a friend, now she’s just a casualty of a vicious fight between two petty, petty lovers. Should I care that a whole person died here? When I’m about to go make another person’s intentions a part of my game again? No. I guess I’m a psycho, I don’t care. I’ve got a nagging feeling of anticipatory regret that reminds me that I’m human, and I enjoy it, but that’s about it.
This man is hot and I’m fucking him.
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