My secret land

I like being tipsy. It's the best way to confess your love to your straight friend.

Before and after 
So long ago 
I tried to tell you off. 
I screamed myself mad, 
Pulled my hair and bit my nails. 
 
You listened, I know you did. 
Solemnly and blankly, 
You said ‘ok', and ‘whatever you say', 
An nodded your head like you agreed. 
What a laugh. 
 
Long ago I was a fool. 
Long ago and now as well and in the future 
I never learn. 
 
Your eyes grew cold as tears ran down, 
It was then I knew I’m fucking done. 
You matter more then you could ever imagine. 
Yet I can’t endure the chaos you create. 
The drama, the loud way you conduct your life, 
I hate how I can’t stand to have you around. 
Your shit around the house, 
Your hair in all my clothes, 
Your smell on the towel and blanket and pillow. 
Everything you broke. 
 
Like gravestones of my affection, 
The mug, the fan, the toaster, the bed. 
All remain disordered and abandoned. 
You couldn’t bring yourself to tidy up, 
To fix the mess you left behind. 
Why should I? 
 
I’m really asking, I need to know, 
Why should I be the one to let go? 

This is familiar,

This is comforting and easy.

It also hurts so badly. Such a consuming pain I can't focus on anything else.

I don't like my feelings. They're not kind or accepting, they make me feel like a bad person. And I am. Sometimes I don't have the energy to try not to be. 

So I better shut myself away, not be mean to anyone but myself. They don't deserve to put up with it.

Even if they put up with a lot worse from others and still not abandon them. Who am I to expect the same treatment?

If I get my period this weekend I'll be very fucking upset.

I'm getting too many compliments lately.

And the trouble is, I'm starting to believe them.

Because I can usually differentiate between genuine compliments and  niceties you have to scrape the bottom of the barrel for.

And I don't know if I like it.

Because it's not the compliments themselves nor the people they're coming from that matter, it's my own feeling of self worth.

And I could never trust it. I can't trust it when it tells me I'm horrible, that I can never accomplish anything, that it'll be easier to die;

And I can't trust it when it tells me my actions matter, that I have a positive influence on the world. That it'll be easier to die.

And yet I'm still here. Doing everything and nothing. Getting fucked and abused and blocking all of the world's distractions to do it.

Everything hurts so good

And it's songood that everything hurts.

I tried to put myself more out there.

Share more openly.

I don't know if I like it. It's very mixed.

Something is wrong with my perception of things.

My expectations too high.

Who am I to think he would fuck me?

Of course I'll stay up until 4:00 only for him to say he'll wake me up if he can get hard.

It's not  reasonable for me to expect more, earlier, when I'm not so tired I can't enjoy it without help. When it won't completely fuck up tomorrow and the day after.

I'm not reasonable. I'm not. I'm here for him on his terms in his house and if I don't like it I can leave.

So I'll go to sleep and maybe, if I'm really lucky (which I'm probably not), I'll get to wake up in time to feel him come down my throat.

Again and Again and again and again and again

It isn't the same, not the same, not the same.

I feel so alone so alone, all alone.

I know you're still warm, and yet you pull away.

Leaving me down, on the ground at your feet.

You deserve so much more, so much more.

I'm the best I can do, not the best I should be.

But I'm not all alone anymore.

But I'm not all alone anymore.

(It's got a melody, I just hope I'll remember it tomorrow.)

I want to be cuddled to sleep.

Maybe even have my back and shoulders rubbed.

I just want to feel safe enough to fall asleep.

And cuddles. I want cuddles. Preferably from my love or a soft and caring mommy.

I hate that I waited so long to fuck her and it wasn't reallyl that good. She was kind of a turn off.

Probably because she doesn't really want me there.

I'm scared.

I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid I won't like my reactions. 

She's such an annoying brat. Such a manipulative cunt.

I love you but go fuck yourself. You're not gonna ruin us because you're depressed.

Fuck I miss you so much.

I know we spent most of the week together but it was complicated and hurt quite a bit as well.

So I feel like I need reassuring that everything is still ok, the same as it was.

I know it is. I know it would probably be even better, but I still need to silnce the tiny voice in my head.

I continued the party after I left, wich is not something I usually do. I'm not sure what I feel about that, except slightly nauseous.

I'm not suggesting anything, I need that rest just as much as you do, but I still can't stop thinking about you and playing with myself.

I'm making rash and active decisions, impulsive and stupid ones, dangerous ones, destructive once. 

It never ends well, I hurt the people that care about me.

I hate when negative emotions I thought didn't exist grow so strong they move me to action. Brief and remorseful as it was.

I hate this fog I'm in and yet I love it so much I prolong it again and again.

I hope I'll catch it in time. I hope I won't.