(no subject)
I really don't know why I so desperately still think it could be possible to have some fun with sex. Have I grown so old in my love that this is not possible? I want adventure and list and passion and rough fucking sex! I'm a human. A young human in my prime and instead of celebrating this I get nothing. It's so fucking disappointing. Maybe I should just leave. Just get the fuck out, this is so pointless. He doesn't even act like he likes me or wants me around. I'm an annoying burden. Why don't I make him happy anymore? Nothing does. Just fishing. First kombucha and now fishing. Never me. Never Devon. I thought I was his stardust, his soul, his life. I'm nothing. It makes me feel so worthless. Why do I fight for something that is just wasted and dead. Our love. Whatever that was once it's not the same anymore it hasn't grown it has faded. It's so sad and so pointless. It didn't have to be like this. I give him my everything. Maybe I gave him too much of myself and now there's nothing left. I quit my job why not quit him too. Move back to st pete or take drez and just move somewhere altogether new. North Carolina? I don't know. Anywhere but purgatory. I'm so unfulfilled and angry even. Angry that I've wasted so much time. The good times are killing me. Because I remember them and they hurt. And because It seems I can't touch them anymore. What was once right within my reach is distant and it crumbles when I get close. The tiny tastes I get of that blissful time are bitter sweet. They have the tang of fruit that has gone sour. They are broken memories from a broken heart and a misty mind.