msjessica's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- i live in a box of paints loneliness creeps back and sits on me like a big fucking piece of stone. - weekends now i really get into such a deep aloneness. when my mouth opens to speak, my voice is cracked and hoarse, unnatural. i went out last night, i howled and sang, smiled and caressed. today i slept. a friend messaged about coming by to drop a book off and i typed a reply about how i may not be home, i think it took me half an hour, i would fall back to sleep with my thumb on the screen and wake up to seeing glowing 'i have to go the chemssssssuusuuuuuuubbbbbbbjjjjjjjjjkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk' over and over. wake up, see that, delete, start again -> repeat. such exhaustion. i wonder if heroin..... if opiates, opiate receptors... that thing about turning them on? thats what makes heroin so addictive, that you have this bit in your brain and once it's on you can't turn it off? this type of tiredness, this type of falling asleep sitting up, falling asleep mid sentence, mid thought, without even knowing, having the sleep be so like waking life that you just don't realise until..... there's just a cigarette full of ash resting in your fingertips or a text message full of just one letter... i didn't know it before heroin and now i don't even need heroin to be that type of tired? - the other night i went out for a beautiful and expensive dinner, i basically starved myself all week for it (kind of). amazing food, expensive wine from Transylvania. beautiful. naturally indulging myself in that way left my cold, empty and weeping once finally alone. i called in an old friend and he came over and put a glass pipe to my lips, filled me full of sweet smoke then put his lips hard to mine, exchanged one kind of wet cheeks for another, pushed a big hard cock into me, cold fingers in my mouth, tried to slap sense or at least....awakeness, presence into me. spat in my mouth. came in me so deep, it was almost 5 minutes after sitting up his semen finaly started spilling from me. he spoke with me about how i am, let me tell stories, let me lay down on my belly and rubbed my shoulders, my back, my arms, straddled me his mostly flaccid cock resting snug against my ass crack and laid his warmth along the length of me, his heavy breath on my neck, we two sad feeling soulless wanderers so needing some fucking human warmth and to feel someone else responding to us. he kept me up all night. we smoked and talked and fucked. i needed it, so did he. i thought it helped - it did, for a time. last night....... today. this deep silence and solitude. - i am so angry that i don't have that thing anymore that was really making me feel good. the very reasons that he gives for wanting it to end are the things i so want, and so miss. and fuck, he knows that, i know that. to him thats WHY it had to end - he can't fall in love right now. i get why life gave this to me at the moment. i needed SOMETHING but i couldn't have a real thing. but FUCK. i'm so angry. we made such beautiful love. and i made him happy. and he made me happy. but yeah, of course, it's unhealthy to live like that and he has this sort of co-dependency thing that is older than i am and now he is ~finally~ recognising he needs to be alone. but why the fuck. why am i this person to people? 9:31 p.m. - 2015-07-05 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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