DON’T YOU CRY

I have not contacted Highland Park in two days. I don’t know what to say.

I want to tell him about the porn I watched, what it made me do to myself, and subsequently, what it made me want to do to him.

But I didn’t.

Jesus. I sound so fucking desperate. Ouch.

My Ex-Husband came by to drop something off. He ran in and ran out. I get the feeling lately that he does not like me as a human being. He is spending a lot of time with his ex-girlfriend. His “best friend.” They are watching movies, going hiking, having lunch and dinner together at whim. Everything I kept them from doing the years my ex and I were together. I always felt so in-the-way. Now I know I was not wrong.

Ouch. Again.

I am reading “Will I ever be good enough” about daughters healing from narcissistic mothers.

It’s scary how much I relate and how related it is to my current romantic predicaments.

Never enough-ism. Where is the 12 Step Program for that?

Not being enough and not getting enough.

I vacillate between wanting to end it because I want Highland Park too much, and then I rationalize those thoughts away by telling myself that it is just sex, it is fun, it does not need to be so damn serious.

But it is, serious, for me, and always will be.

He says he talks to me in his head. That he wants to reach out more, but doesn’t. But he loves it when I do.

I hate saying this; I do, because it sounds so school girl crush crazy, but I feel connected to him in such a sweet, beautiful, and weird way. I swear I have known him before, maybe another lifetime. If you believe in that sort of thing.

I sound so stupid.

I am going to shut up now.

He just left.

The sex was fantastic. He came. I came. It was sexy, passionate, intense, comfortable, and fun. He tells me I am beautiful and that he respects me, then spanks me and laughs with me.

My heart hurts just a little

Lying with him afterwards

Just talking

Is so nice

Naked

Talking

For hours

I trace my fingers across his chest, stomach, ears, cheek and face over and over again

When he mentions leaving, I throw my leg over him

Not to keep him down

But I think, in hindsight, to feel, for a moment, what sleeping with him might be like

Waking up with his body next to mine

His smell

I won’t say it.

I will never say it

And I will not cry

I forced myself not to cry

when he left.

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