I am...
I don't know. Managing. Stuck in this life of mine, unwilling to change anything because if I'm honest I've always sickly enjoyed life like this. It reminds me of all the grand themes of my experience. I get something for awhile, it gets taken away, I get to cleave to the ashes and suck as much as I can from them. As sick as that is, how could I leave it? I make it my life's work to get into the heart of emotionally dead people and then wonder why it is that I can't wring love from them once I'm in. I'm fucking special aren't I? No, no I'm not, or if I am, well fucking hooray for me since it never ends up in me riding away into the sunset with the prince (even if we would just end up living i a shitty apartment with 2 screaming kids and a yippy shitty dog and years of resentment between us).
What I am instead is alone. Always alone, even with a friend or confidant, or whatever you want to call it. The distant, dull, obscured things that I want in my life are at the other end of a very long passage and all along the way are brambles, pitfalls, and black fucking holes. Not to mention veils so that I don't even really know what these goals are from moment to moment. They sum up to me mostly though, in the thoughts of warm arms as I lay listening to a heartbeat, the idea of not having to be afraid or embarrassed by this fucking meat sack I carry around and it's maladjusted brain/control center ever again, and by not ending my day with drunken tears because I made the decision to stay away from yet another human being who I thought could bring me these things, and knew it was the wise, less tear-filled choice.
Now I must sleep so I can once again wade through the sludge and try to keep the happy face on. Worst of all, most of the time I *AM* happy, as long as I don't dwell on how long it's been since someone touched me in desire, or how long it might ever be before someone does again....*sigh*
