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Jerk him off while spooning him

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I don’t know how to explain this well…but I’m 30 years old and I feel like I’ve had to ‘sacrifice’ my entire adult life to unprecedented times, the pandemic and daily anxiety over hateful politicians and whatever rights they want to take away on any given day and I’m just so fucking tired

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sloppy kissing 🤝🏻 dry humping

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This status quo with you feels…

…safe. I have no desire to break it. But what’s crazier is that even after all this time—weeks and weeks—I still don’t really know what I want. After all this time—you’d think I know. That I’d be able to suss it out over the time you occupy my head, my thoughts. The weight of my chest and the warning in the back of my mind.

How am I supposed to not be thrown by who you are? The current thing that's keeping me at a distance?

This: One day—you tell me he's blocked. "Vibes were rancid" you said. And then the very next day you’re telling me I don’t know you at all and essentially cutting me out of your life by accusing me of things I’ve never done. And then refusing to listen when I tell you that you were lied too.

Weeks pass ... and the next thing I hear—you’ve hung out with him 3x in a few weeks and he’s gone from town. You say “it was like talking to a stranger.” Hmm. Where have I heard that before? OH yah. You saying it to me. And that's when I came to the realization that you go through these cyles with EVERYONE. And that I can't even trust your view of what happens because of how warped your perception is.

YOU are the problem. You and your emotional instability. You RUN from any and every truth relating to your emotions because you are too immature and ignorant to handle them.

“I don’t know why I miss him?” What the fuck do you mean? How stupid can you get? Of course you know.

But no. You’ll only say that you loved him on a disappearing instagram message because you flee from your emotions. You flee from every truth. You let yourself forget and let your memory obscure any true revelation you might have or KEEP about others.

I repeat. YOU are the problem. Where did I see this cycle before? OH yes. Me. Because you put me through the same shitty cycles I watch you go through with other people.

I'm glad we haven't fixed out staus quo because I don't trust you to not fuck it all up again.

And despite my harsh words and feelings, I still EMPATHIZE with you. I UNDERSTAND that the abuse you've suffered fucked you up. It warped your head and twisted you so deeply. Someone (hi! It's me, I'm someone), can pour their soul out to you—and see so much of yours—and you can go and beleive lies about them or say you don’t know them to their fucking face. And sure you waved it all away with some half-assed “well *technically* it’s so little compared to the life of a person”, but you know just as well as I do that it’s bullshit. We objectively know a lot about each other—but they’re not past events, their current world states so to speak.

Or at least—for a long time—I did know your current world state. I was living in it. Breathing it. I … was loving it.

And time and time again—cycle after cycle—you did the same crushing things. The same mistakes. So I repeat a third time. You’ve always been the problem.

And maybe it took the world falling to absolute fucking shit for me to see that so clearly.

But ultimately—you’re a coward. And I'm anything but.

And that’s where we clash most. You've run from the truth at every turn. Sometimes I’m not even sure you know what the truth is.

My boyfriend was right to leave you in the dust all those months ago. And YOU were right—you’re not welcome here—because you’ve ruined every chance you had to be welcome here. We sat on the sofa the other night, thinking of the time you spent all day—and evening—with us. It was ... really, really wonderful. We both thought so. Yet those times seem so far past, because you went through the same cycle with my boyfriend. It's no wonder you find it so hard to keep friendships. Because you’ve always been the problem. And perhaps I’ve been a fool to not realize that sooner.

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therapy? you mean watching him stroke it ?

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Damn. I miss you.

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I’m gunna 🥺 at you until you shove your cock in my mouth

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It's getting cold, who wants to join me in my robe?

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During the waking hours...

...he's not more than a buzzing fly that sometimes gets too close, but for the most part, keeps banging itself against a window—background noise. But at night in my dreams—he's consuming. He stretches across every part of my mind, enveloping me in a laugh I can't get out of my ears, a body I wish was still pressed up against mine, a scent lingering on my nose, and a love I wish I could express.