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Dirty stories make me think about sex.
11.13.2004 | 4:29 pm I'm single. Heartbroken. My fault. We talked about it. We were okay. I fancied music & stumbled to the couch, where I pathetically passed out reassured everything was fine. I was awakened by the telephone, because I apparently left it lying on the back of the couch. I answered. I talked to Justin. I apologized. He hates me. It kills me. Mom told me James was coming over. & bringing "things." People don't bring me things. I knew what he was doing. I gathered his things & gave my mother a monologue on the past 6 months of my life. I then freely gave her the smidget of vodka I had left & told her I was a horrible person. Cried. She didn't hug me. She said I wasn't a bad person -- just confused. James came. We sat. We talked. I was distant. So was he. We went to Heather's house to return her shoes. She wasn't home. We came back home & sat in the truck for a long time. He scared me. I couldn't kiss him. Out of guilt, maybe. Maybe out of disgust of myself, but I couldn't. We came to my room & talked. I offered sex, because well, I'm a slut. He accepted, I declined. Because I have feelings. & I have meaning. & I have respect for myself. & I don't need to sleep with people so they won't leave me. Or maybe I do. We talked. We had an awkward sexual encounter. I cried. I'm pathetic. I still love him & I apologize greatly for everything I did to him. I never meant to hurt anybody. I did. More than I know. Or care to comprehend. He left. I cried. Mom said he wasn't worth it. No one was. Mom's only been in love with one person in her entire life. She's "assigning" me to go with her to TN. She says I need time to "get my head right." She's probably right. I want to go. But when I leave this godforsaken shithole -- I'm not coming back. I called Justin, because he had called earlier (so mother said). I apologized. He said he wanted nothing to do with me. I don't blame him. He should hate me. I'm being vague. I don't care. It's terrible when your prescence is the one you hate the most. 'Cause, goddamn, it's not like you can lock yourself out. Or can you? We'll try. I've been reading a psychology book for the past 2 hours. I've learned quite a bit about myself as well. Not very many good things. I'm confused, because the basis of the personality is basically either "introverted" or "extroverted" & quite frankly, I don't think I'm either. & there's no in-between. Maybe I just don't like being categorized. I hope James has a good day at work. I hope he has good sex with the brunette who has pizza sauce on the left of her mouth too. She's so cute when she moans. |
