what the fuck is this shit, kid?
i closed my eyes and found that once again it was violent and sharp and i felt confused; why is it suddenly so good that it hurts, and where did it come from? is it somehow because of him?
strangest of all is that i stroked myself to a second orgasm and he entered my thoughts as my mouth opened and i thought of only a couple of nights ago with my mouth open like this, against his ear, and suddenly i was not crying out in pleasure.
i was just crying.
john mayer was turned up in my headphones so i could hardly hear myself but there was no mistaking it.
it's almost six in the morning and john mayer's playing and i'm laying here crying and staring up at the sky that somehow burned blue in the space between my blinks and there is hardly pain, just this sudden shaking sobbing seizure underneath these blankets alone in my room again.
i hate that paranoia won't leave me alone. i hate that as my hand hit the waist of my pajama pants i heard it whisper that you shared his body, but that does not mean you share his heart. as if nothing i told myself, nothing i was told, nothing i realized, meant anything for a millisecond.
it went away, but does that mean it will stay away? will i never have faith in anyfuckingthing?
why did it take me until six o'clock in the morning-- nearly twenty-four full hours later-- to burst into tears? what use is it now?
what is he doing now?
i don't feel sad. i just want to cry. i want to cry and cry and cry, to empty myself and sleep.
maybe i will.
strangest of all is that i stroked myself to a second orgasm and he entered my thoughts as my mouth opened and i thought of only a couple of nights ago with my mouth open like this, against his ear, and suddenly i was not crying out in pleasure.
i was just crying.
john mayer was turned up in my headphones so i could hardly hear myself but there was no mistaking it.
it's almost six in the morning and john mayer's playing and i'm laying here crying and staring up at the sky that somehow burned blue in the space between my blinks and there is hardly pain, just this sudden shaking sobbing seizure underneath these blankets alone in my room again.
i hate that paranoia won't leave me alone. i hate that as my hand hit the waist of my pajama pants i heard it whisper that you shared his body, but that does not mean you share his heart. as if nothing i told myself, nothing i was told, nothing i realized, meant anything for a millisecond.
it went away, but does that mean it will stay away? will i never have faith in anyfuckingthing?
why did it take me until six o'clock in the morning-- nearly twenty-four full hours later-- to burst into tears? what use is it now?
what is he doing now?
i don't feel sad. i just want to cry. i want to cry and cry and cry, to empty myself and sleep.
maybe i will.