trace and memorize
my contacts list increases
strangers respond to new ads but
I don't want to talk to them.
I read their secrets, but
they're just meant as ways to impress me. or to get me horny.
I save them in my contacts so I won't contact them by accident in the future.
no more "oops"
oops.
my smoochy-face, he's gone. camping. whatever. good. glad he's gone. but he'll be back.
I instantly regret everything.
he doesn't know me.
he's attracted to me, he says. he doesn't want a relationship, he says. he doesn't want to hurt my feelings, he says.
he's barely heard my words. my voice. he doesn't know what I like. or want. or dream. he doesn't know me.
he's heard me say "I don't know" and "I'm not sure" and "what do you think?"
am I stupid, I wonder?
does he think I'm stupid? "you've got to make more decisions" he says.
a sexy body, he says. he says I have a sexy body.
he's lying, I think to myself. but I say "thank you" to be polite.
I regret it. I regret smooching him after hanging out with him only once.
doing more than smooching after hanging out only once.
oh, fuck it. fuck it. I don't want to see him ever again. I feel embarrassed.
why?
because when he dropped me off the next morning
er, it just felt awkward. inside the car,
everything felt
distanced.
but he said it, he said he'd call me when he got back to portland
then he smooched me.
while my mother mowed our grass.
earlier that day, as he measured out weed for my sister,
"I feel like I'm corrupting you" he said.
"you are", I said, "but I don't mind".
I don't mind. but why can't I be corrupted by someone who makes me feel loved?
not someone who just wants to fuck me?
sadly, I could come up with a list of people who want to fuck me
only one who ever loved me.
my heart breaks.
I never thought so much could stay the same, even when the change felt so sure to happen.
I thought; it'll be good to have this relationship with him. this not-relationship.
he's a nice guy, I've known him since elementary school. he's chill.
maybe I'll learn to calm down. to not care so much.
maybe I'll separate love from physical stuff.
but who am I kidding. no one, obviously.
this is me. me. me.
I care. too much.
I think. too much.
I need love, not sex.
this isn't what I needed. it's what I wanted. and what I wanted, it's rather detrimental.
but it's
it's
it's.
my words. they're broken. my journal, it's sort of empty. my feet, they've barely touched the dirt in days.
I'm fucking crazy. seriously. people must be crazy to get involved with me.
strangers respond to new ads but
I don't want to talk to them.
I read their secrets, but
they're just meant as ways to impress me. or to get me horny.
I save them in my contacts so I won't contact them by accident in the future.
no more "oops"
oops.
my smoochy-face, he's gone. camping. whatever. good. glad he's gone. but he'll be back.
I instantly regret everything.
he doesn't know me.
he's attracted to me, he says. he doesn't want a relationship, he says. he doesn't want to hurt my feelings, he says.
he's barely heard my words. my voice. he doesn't know what I like. or want. or dream. he doesn't know me.
he's heard me say "I don't know" and "I'm not sure" and "what do you think?"
am I stupid, I wonder?
does he think I'm stupid? "you've got to make more decisions" he says.
a sexy body, he says. he says I have a sexy body.
he's lying, I think to myself. but I say "thank you" to be polite.
I regret it. I regret smooching him after hanging out with him only once.
doing more than smooching after hanging out only once.
oh, fuck it. fuck it. I don't want to see him ever again. I feel embarrassed.
why?
because when he dropped me off the next morning
er, it just felt awkward. inside the car,
everything felt
distanced.
but he said it, he said he'd call me when he got back to portland
then he smooched me.
while my mother mowed our grass.
earlier that day, as he measured out weed for my sister,
"I feel like I'm corrupting you" he said.
"you are", I said, "but I don't mind".
I don't mind. but why can't I be corrupted by someone who makes me feel loved?
not someone who just wants to fuck me?
sadly, I could come up with a list of people who want to fuck me
only one who ever loved me.
my heart breaks.
I never thought so much could stay the same, even when the change felt so sure to happen.
I thought; it'll be good to have this relationship with him. this not-relationship.
he's a nice guy, I've known him since elementary school. he's chill.
maybe I'll learn to calm down. to not care so much.
maybe I'll separate love from physical stuff.
but who am I kidding. no one, obviously.
this is me. me. me.
I care. too much.
I think. too much.
I need love, not sex.
this isn't what I needed. it's what I wanted. and what I wanted, it's rather detrimental.
but it's
it's
it's.
my words. they're broken. my journal, it's sort of empty. my feet, they've barely touched the dirt in days.
I'm fucking crazy. seriously. people must be crazy to get involved with me.