Chapter Three
The bed and ceiling have become the extent of my world. I'm really spiking. How many days has it been? I can definitely count three; there's no mistaking those three. But looking back, I think it began before then. Monday, probably, was the first. The beginning of the spike. It started off quietly, and built in a thundering crescendo.
It's been a long, long time since I've had one like this. A year or more, probably.
What's funny is that as triggers go, this is a relatively minor one. What did she offer? A glimmer of hope, nothing more. It's not like Sarah. Sarah was much, much worse. That one just went on and on. She'd suck out my entire soul, if I had a soul, and I let her. And that one continues to this day, ten years later. We're still some kind of friends. I've learned how to defend myself against her in that time, though. Don't ever let yourself get to close. Never think she likes you. Always realize that if she calls, it's because she wants something.
And Melissa. That's when life fell apart. For over a year we shared everything with one another. It was frightening how close we were. Then she told me I wasn't passionate enough, and we never spoke again. Things crumbled at that point; she'd sucked the last hope from deep inside me.
Everyone since then has just been grinding the remains of my empty husk into the dirt.
So it's funny that this can have such an effect on me. But not surprising, if I think about it. I'm so broken that I cling to the smallest bit of hope that a woman might throw me. The slightest kindness is a piece of driftwood to this drowning man, keeping me afloat just a little longer. One more day.
Then I suddenly find it pulled from my grasp.
Do I give up and drown? Or do I continue the struggle? Do I resign myself to loneliness?
Or will I find more driftwood?
The bed and ceiling have become the extent of my world. I'm really spiking. How many days has it been? I can definitely count three; there's no mistaking those three. But looking back, I think it began before then. Monday, probably, was the first. The beginning of the spike. It started off quietly, and built in a thundering crescendo.
It's been a long, long time since I've had one like this. A year or more, probably.
What's funny is that as triggers go, this is a relatively minor one. What did she offer? A glimmer of hope, nothing more. It's not like Sarah. Sarah was much, much worse. That one just went on and on. She'd suck out my entire soul, if I had a soul, and I let her. And that one continues to this day, ten years later. We're still some kind of friends. I've learned how to defend myself against her in that time, though. Don't ever let yourself get to close. Never think she likes you. Always realize that if she calls, it's because she wants something.
And Melissa. That's when life fell apart. For over a year we shared everything with one another. It was frightening how close we were. Then she told me I wasn't passionate enough, and we never spoke again. Things crumbled at that point; she'd sucked the last hope from deep inside me.
Everyone since then has just been grinding the remains of my empty husk into the dirt.
So it's funny that this can have such an effect on me. But not surprising, if I think about it. I'm so broken that I cling to the smallest bit of hope that a woman might throw me. The slightest kindness is a piece of driftwood to this drowning man, keeping me afloat just a little longer. One more day.
Then I suddenly find it pulled from my grasp.
Do I give up and drown? Or do I continue the struggle? Do I resign myself to loneliness?
Or will I find more driftwood?
But really now, it's not bout self image or confidence. I just like playing with nice boobs.
As for your blog - fuckin' eh.