So I did the one thing I said I was totally done doing. Actually, in hindsight, Im pretty god awful at sticking to my guns as far as any sense of self preservation goes. Especially if there’s even the slightest chance at some sort of reward.
And the sex is always fantastic. Empty as it is.
I always bolt before the sun comes up. Leave him sleeping in bed. Vampire pussy. Gone before dawn.
Sort of like I imagine an addict functions. Except my fixes are those brief moments where I try to convince myself I matter to someone. I cling to that fleeting feeling of being worthy and revel in the incrediby brief warm and fuzzy feeling. I imagine the crashes are similar too. It always ends in a total free fall into that dark, unloved place I seem to exist in. Realistically it’s no different than any other day but that brief closeness, no matter how temporary or pretend I know it is, was so outside my regular life that just coming back to normal feels like a freefall.
What is almost worse is my rational side knows whats happening, warns me it’s coming and takes the “I told you so” stance. Emotional me just wants to curl into a ball and cry. It’s a pattern I feel locked in. Stuck. I think I want out but really if I actually wanted out I’d just do it…right?
I dont even know if I know how to be anything but a sex object anymore. I crave closeness but tuck tail and run at the first sign of interest. I assume, on a psych level, it’s something to do with a childhood filled with trauma and abandonment. Im 45 fucking years old. Get over it already.
Speaking of psych Im finally seriously looking into finishing out a degree. Or at least dreaming of it hard enough that I went and got school programs. 7K a year that I dont have to spend on an education that I’ll probably die before I get to use. With luck I’ll win the lottery. Isnt that everyones plan?
Heartache, hiccups and hope 