Take it
I have never admitted that at any point in my life, things were better. Time only moves in one direction; I can always reason with myself to avoid regret. It's hard being here this time of year. I remember her standing in the driveway last August in a white t-shirt and jeans, army duffle nearby. The smells of these vacant stairwells trigger memories like annurisms.
I should go to bed.
I should think about her hands while I masturbate, and then I should go to bed.
This is exactly the reason she gets so frustrated with me: I don't say anything concrete. There is no "game plan", no laundry list of sacrifices I am prepared to make for breaking her trust. When I call, she's at the bar, or en route to dinner with someone, somewhere, and all I can think to say is, "Come home. Just come home to me". For the first time in my life, I am aching to protect someone- I want to take care of things; I want to re-construct myself into a sort of shelter. My timing is absolutely terrible, but she is not closed to me. It's a lot of fumbling; I'm playing this all by ear.
I should go to bed.
I should think about her hands while I masturbate, and then I should go to bed.
This is exactly the reason she gets so frustrated with me: I don't say anything concrete. There is no "game plan", no laundry list of sacrifices I am prepared to make for breaking her trust. When I call, she's at the bar, or en route to dinner with someone, somewhere, and all I can think to say is, "Come home. Just come home to me". For the first time in my life, I am aching to protect someone- I want to take care of things; I want to re-construct myself into a sort of shelter. My timing is absolutely terrible, but she is not closed to me. It's a lot of fumbling; I'm playing this all by ear.