A confession

because i don't have anyone else

i sit, a virgin, typing this to you awaiting a call from a man. a boy, should i say. a f*****g manchild. a manchild who i don't understand in the best of ways. i understand him in his love of batman, melodramatic acoustic artists and cats, but i don't understand him in the ways of how he understands me. and better yet, how he loves me.

how he wants me to want him and how i won't give in. how i'm sick to my stomach with worry and lust and how i still feel him on my body, how i still smell him on my skin. and all the while wondering if he's thinking of me.... or her.
i sit, a virgin, typing this to you a s**t in the eyes of many. a human blowing another as they text they're partner, a human that's been felt in only his ways as he speaks to her on the phone, a human who is ashamed in the worst of ways, and proud because i see him desiring me in all my unfortunate wobbliness, and a human jealous when he speaks of her, of other women, when he tells me about his women.

i suppose i'm a bad person, truth is.... i'm a lonely f*****g person...

Reviews

[Alex Vidmar]

Really heartbreaking. But this is great that you're able to say this. No matter what form you're doing it through. I think this is a beautifully well-stated story. Write on, my friend, write on.

Peace.