(no subject)
can't think really good. can't remember what's going on half the time or what I've done recently...
last night me and shareef 'broke up', which is miraculous considering we were never really together in the first place.
the words 'it's just not working' and 'let's keep in touch' were definitely used.
he came home hours after me and there was just nothing left to say.
nothing.
empty words.
awkward silences.
followed by probably the best sex we've ever had.
good only because for the first time I wasn't afraid to be emotional, to look into his eyes and hold him tighter than I've ever let myself.
ironic that the only time I've ever been able to express any emotion was after it was all over.
after he was already gone.
after it was too late to save it...
I guess I have problems with starting at the beginning of any story.
there's a very similar entry to this one dated almost 3 years ago, and I lack the perspective to find that amusing.
I slept with someone else.
a beautiful, beautiful boy that I've been staring vacantly at for weeks now.
a drunk, drunk boy who let me cut his finger open with broken glass so that we could become blood siblings.
we ended up stumbling to his house after kissing in an alley.
like magnets.
like fucking, magnets.
I met him at a random bar downtown after the kj sawka party when he approached me timidly and asked if I had found the sweatshirt I was wearing at the aforementioned party.
I had, and was amazed that I had found him in a city of hundreds of thousands...
at a bar during a blazers game.
weeks passed and we started seeing each other everywhere.
culminating in one drunken, sweet, moderately awkward night where we were connected.
like really, connected.
in the morning I didn't know where I was, but when I discovered him there next to me I smiled.
and he smiled.
and then he reached over and pulled me right up against him and where I had expected awkwardness there was only more...
awesome.
it's funny that I met you because I accidentally stole your sweatshirt...
I mumbled sleepily as the light streamed in through the windows and illuminated him.
I never thought I'd find the guy it belonged to...
you didn't have to...
he said, reaching over and pulling me even closer.
he found you.
and find me he did.
now I don't know how to act though.
things got a little messy toward the end when we were both hungover and he was puking?
I guess I just left then, and I haven't really talked to him much in the last couple days...
I really want a fucking beer but I guess I'll have to get used to that feeling.
I'm gonna sit here and try really hard to forget that I just sent him a text message that he probably won't reply to.
I'm scared.
last night me and shareef 'broke up', which is miraculous considering we were never really together in the first place.
the words 'it's just not working' and 'let's keep in touch' were definitely used.
he came home hours after me and there was just nothing left to say.
nothing.
empty words.
awkward silences.
followed by probably the best sex we've ever had.
good only because for the first time I wasn't afraid to be emotional, to look into his eyes and hold him tighter than I've ever let myself.
ironic that the only time I've ever been able to express any emotion was after it was all over.
after he was already gone.
after it was too late to save it...
I guess I have problems with starting at the beginning of any story.
there's a very similar entry to this one dated almost 3 years ago, and I lack the perspective to find that amusing.
I slept with someone else.
a beautiful, beautiful boy that I've been staring vacantly at for weeks now.
a drunk, drunk boy who let me cut his finger open with broken glass so that we could become blood siblings.
we ended up stumbling to his house after kissing in an alley.
like magnets.
like fucking, magnets.
I met him at a random bar downtown after the kj sawka party when he approached me timidly and asked if I had found the sweatshirt I was wearing at the aforementioned party.
I had, and was amazed that I had found him in a city of hundreds of thousands...
at a bar during a blazers game.
weeks passed and we started seeing each other everywhere.
culminating in one drunken, sweet, moderately awkward night where we were connected.
like really, connected.
in the morning I didn't know where I was, but when I discovered him there next to me I smiled.
and he smiled.
and then he reached over and pulled me right up against him and where I had expected awkwardness there was only more...
awesome.
it's funny that I met you because I accidentally stole your sweatshirt...
I mumbled sleepily as the light streamed in through the windows and illuminated him.
I never thought I'd find the guy it belonged to...
you didn't have to...
he said, reaching over and pulling me even closer.
he found you.
and find me he did.
now I don't know how to act though.
things got a little messy toward the end when we were both hungover and he was puking?
I guess I just left then, and I haven't really talked to him much in the last couple days...
I really want a fucking beer but I guess I'll have to get used to that feeling.
I'm gonna sit here and try really hard to forget that I just sent him a text message that he probably won't reply to.
I'm scared.