i spilled my coffee in the sink.

I found myself missing you today.
I'm not sure what it was that sparked the thought of you in my mind. I wondered what walks of life you have travelled these last five years. If you would be different or unchanged by time. Funny how a lot of the memories have already faded for me. Though that may be a testament to my forgetful nature.

Then I found that poem you wrote about me. Still public. And still just as effective.
I read about my inherent selfishness. I read as you painted an image of me that was toxic. As though I was a leech on your shoulder, draining you of life. Was it simply that I could not love you in the way that you wanted to be loved? Did my apparent selfishness stem from my desire to have a life outside of the friendship we had? To have meaningful relationships aside from the one I shared with you? What gets to me is reading about my selfishness described as though it was my nature. Implying that this trait has been woven into the fabric of my being.

My nature is gentle like water softly spilling over rocks in a stream. This much I know about myself. But there is a side to me that is selfish. Just as I have a side to me that is insecure and filled with anxiety. And this insecurity has bled into my friendships. It's instilled a fear in me of abandonement. Made me question loyalties for even the slightest change in energy.
I am combating and actively unlearning this behavior every day. Because in a lot of ways it reminds me of how you often made me feel. And I don't want to be that kind of presence for anyone in my life. And so I ask myself...what have I learned? Am I to have faith in my friendships and allow them room to breathe? Or am I to cling too tightly and risk damaging something that could have been beautiful and long lasting?

I found myself missing you today. But then I found that poem and I was reminded of why I only allow myself to look forward.

on the subject of love

My boss told me something the other day.  He said he was watching tv with his wife and she fell asleep on his lap. He said he was just watching her sleep and thought to himself "I would'nt trade this for anything in the world. Not a goddamn thing."
He told me that everything he went through in life was worth it because it eventually led him to her.

It is that kind of love that my soul craves. And I knew that emotion well. I remember L falling asleep with his head on my chest, and how in that moment I knew there was no place i'd rather be.

There's gotta be someone out there for me. But if not him...then who?

The weekends tend to be pretty boring for me.

L's boyfriend is home during the weekend, so I won't get to see him much.
I don't actually have other friends that I hang out with. So I stay home playing video games, smoking pot and listening to music.
This morning I spent some time with L in his room. We didn't speak much. He was reading a book and I was scrolling through the internet on my phone. A little while later he got up to get dressed for work.

  "I love this hoodie." he said.

I looked up to see he was wearing a thin blue hoodie, tight and snug on his body. He looked good.

  "Sad thing is," he said "it probably belonged to Xander. Or Ryan. Or...Sam? I can't remember."

I looked back down to my phone and said "Who is Sam?Another ex?"

  "Yeah...man, something is wrong with me."

I stayed silent. He's had a long stream of lovers over the past couple of years. There was someone in between Ryan and Xander too. I don't remember her name. I asked him once if he is ever single. He said he doesn't do well with being alone. I know people like that. They jump from one lover to the next. Too afraid to leave an unhappy relationship until they've found someone new. I guess I never really understood that.
He's afraid to be lonely. I get that. But how many hearts does he have to break before he figures out what he wants?
And I can't help but wonder who broke his heart so badly that he's lost himself jumping from one person to the next.

I hate waiting...

but I understand. I'm just a sidefuck. Friends with benefits at best.
I don't usually make the first move because it's hard to get a read on him sometimes. But he does have subtle ways of letting me know he wants touched. It was always friday nights because his boyfriend worked late.

It starts with him resting his head on my lap while we watch tv. I'll play with his hair and watch the strands fall through my fingers. Innevitably, he'll remove his shirt so that I can rub his back. He sometimes asks for a massage and I am all too delighted to let my hands dance over his skin. Listening to his soft sighs and smoothing the warm oil over his body.

"Can you shut the door so I can take my pants off?"
Yes. Absolutely yes.

I close the door and turn to see him lying naked on my bed. My heart is racing, like always. I sit on the bed next to him and let my hands roam from his back, over his ass and down to his feet. Over and over and back again. Teasing his hole with my thumbs as I pass. The massage ended with my tongue in his ass and my fist in his pussy.
Then I fucked him and pulled out to spill over his chest.

I expected him to leave afterwards, as he usually does. But he curled up on my bed and we watched music videos while I pampered him again. Running my fingers over his skin and through his hair.

I have zero regrets. I know this high is temporary but I'm going to ride it out as long as I can. 

(no subject)

Today was a good day. Well, aside from L's car breaking down. I treated him and Guin to Wafflehouse.
Then we headed home and gathered on Guin's bed to binge some tv. She was dozing off in the corner of the bed while L had his legs draped casually over mine. I ghosted my fingertips over his skin, eyes fixed to the screen. I ran my palm over the hair on his calves. It went on like this for a moment before I snuck a glance over at Guin.

Fast asleep. Oblivious.

Feeling bold, I slid my hand into his shorts. I fixed my eyes on him and watched him squirm slightly as I played with his clit. My fingers were wet and I looked down at his mouth. He was biting his lip and the sight of it made me feel high.

Sorry Guin. Guess that was kinda tacky of us. But goddamn if it wasn't a thrill.

L motioned for me to get up and we quietly made our way into my room. I shut the door behind me and turned to see him already pushing down his shorts. I pushed him onto the bed and got him off with my mouth. I felt euphoric, kneeling with my tongue buried in his ass as he wet my face.

I felt no need to come. I had served him and that was enough to satisfy me.

(no subject)

He's usually pretty quiet after we fuck. I wonder if he feels guilty.
I almost want to ask but somehow I'm afraid of the answer.
He's fucking his boyfriend right now. It's hard not to hear them.
Even through the music blasting from their room.

Just over an hour ago he was soaking my face in cum.

Gotta admit. I'm jealous of his sex drive.
I'm not nearly drunk enough. Time for another glass.

(no subject)

For the past couple of nights I have been sleeping with his shirt draped over my pillow.
It smells like him and in a way it comforts me. And for brief moments I can shut my eyes and pretend he's with me. Sleeping peacefully with my arm draped around his side. Quiet except for the fan whirring softly.

pathetic, isn't it ?

I guess I am as in love with him as I ever was. Pretty difficult to deny with my face pressing into his discarded clothes. Except now I understand that the feeling will never be mutual.

Even though just a few nights ago I had him gasping and spilling himself over my fingers, soaking my bedsheets.

It doesn't matter really. We will never be anything more than what we are now. Whatever that is. I feel no need to question things anymore. I know that some times he longs for my hands, and the way I touch him as though his skin is precious and worthy of adornment. And yet his eyes linger in every direction except mine. Still, I know what he means to me.
I guess that will have to be enough.


When I was a kid I used to dream about what my life would be like when I grew up. I remember when my dream was to be a marine biologist because my mom bought me this book about the ocean and it had all these amazing photos. I used to go to the school library and check out books about sea life. I wanted to be a marine biologist by the time I was sixteen. At the time I thought sixteen was the age that I would be considered an adult because it seemed so far away. Then my dream changed and I wanted to grow up to become a Pokemon master, like Ash Ketchum. By the time I was sixteen I was convinced that when I grew up I would be a writer. I had a passion for books and I had all these ideas for stories. I figured one of them would strike gold. Then I realized that I didn’t really have the skill for writing and my ideas were actually pretty one dimensional. Now I’m an adult and I’m trying to get my shit together. My dream now is to get to a point in my life where I can be comfortable and content. I want a job that I enjoy and someone to come home to. I want to be self reliant. I want to buy my own car and I want to read as many books as I can before I die. I guess I just thought I would have it all figured out by now.

Some times I feel like I just need to get the fuck out of here for a while.

It's just a fucked up situation all around. And being here when there's all this fighting and sobbing going on is just too much. And I sit here and I worry about my friend. And I pray that somehow she will find strength. And then I get to thinking about the kid and how her life is gonna be affected by being around this. 

And then I worry about how this will all affect me and my living situation. Not that anyone cares about that really. I just can't deal with this right now. God help me, I'm selfish, but I don't want to even be around this bullshit.