How being fucked around with when you’re too young can really mess with your head

I like and enjoy sex very much, but not with the same person. I hate it when it’s with the same person, it’s a slow slow t o r t u r e. could I type that word aannyy slower.

because when it’s with the same person it reminds me of another when. A when where there was just THAT and nothing else, no one else. it’s your memories that do it, those of a wet, ragged breath, when they should be bunnytail soft, all curves and sweetness. not these jutting pointy angles.

Cause the law in this land is that the sex is good only when you’re a slutty-whirl-a-twirl. everyone thinks you’re just a prude and an uptight bitch, brimming with low-self esteem. But really, you’re an uptight bitch because you can’t be that other person, you know, the one who is nice and fun and not so angry, sleeping around.

I want The One. like everyone else. just one to be close with, one love one life, one ring to bind them all, the chosen one, one to wrap myself around a million times and never let go. I want that. and of course, behind that, I want another endless thousand to fuck, in whatever way I feel obliged.

But I can’t do that with the same person I’m in love with, I’ve tried. I can’t ever do it and it makes me cranky and cruel. I can’t help it, not anymore than I can help blinking. I pick and gnaw and grind at everything in my life. nothing works. nothing happens. I want to say to G: I am just as hungry as you, but you aren’t enough. I can’t find relief through you. I used to, once upon a time, when we didn’t know each other very well, when you were just some boy, when I wasn’t invested, when it didn’t matter. It’s okay though, I love all this other stuff with you, I do, I do, because it’s comforting and honey warm. if only you were gay, it’d make all our lives easier.

So how do you tell someone you love him, you think he’s beautiful, sexy, that you worship him like jesus, but sex just won’t do it for you anymore, because you love him that much? That it’s the sublimeness of this love that kills? how do you say that? how do you say that and not seem like a lunatic? is it even possible? no one listens, no one knows, no one sees.

Because it will never be fun for me, ever, it can only be dirty and raw and scary and I want that with guys I barely know, guys I don’t love or really feel any concern for at all, people who don’t mean much, someone I can dust off my hands at the end of the night. not with someone I have to see everyday, someone I share my world, my son, my sun.

it’s a heavy heart you see, a big sack of rocks & blood & shadows; I need people to take turns lifting it. it’s too much for him, too much for me.

No one will ever understand this and I’ll forever be trapped in one loneliness or the other.

is it me? does anybody else in here feel the way I do? vera? bueller? anyone?

• ← hey
• More regatta pics from cphone →