  So, Im thinking I should move my blog over here. Im self-conscious about the girl having access to my innermost, now that I have no access to her. Fucking kerri Im still quite upset about the breakup, the terms not agreed upon, the silence. Feeling a bit like the Burgess Meredith character in that Twilight Zone episode, after the world was destroyed by a nuke. Nothing but rubble and silence. I came home trashed last night.
Trashed but happy. Im thrilled to have met these girls, Morgen and Kelly. Sweet things with brains. Its fun stuff, and I dont feel like a mental case or that I have to hide the fact that I am one around them. Im so picky about who I spend my time with, if I go out at all. Success; I approve of the new additions to my circle.
I suppose I would have been blogging more had I not added house guests to my pre-finals weekend. Lovely having them here, yet I feel a touch hesitant to go out and play when I have so much on the stove right now. Then again, Ive never been one to turn down a daily session of irresponsibility, alone or with folks. If I can spend the day with beer in my hand whilst doing homework, I can manage extended gym time and doing my drinking actually /with/ people. Speaking of which, I spilled a beer on my oh-so favourite keyboard the other day, rendering the /? key sticky.
Just swatted the thing right off my desk and into my awaiting lap where the action happens when Im writing (besides the arousal). Damn! Guess its time to charge the company for a new CORDLESS one. Love that perk. A quiet day. Im stalling, fending off the urge to sink back into homework mode.
Thus the pursuit of a new web address to do my daily blogging. Seriously though, I shouldnt have mentioned the Kerri thing. cause now I feel like launching into a rant. Right after I have a cigarette. Much better. Having healthy people living here makes being alone (without the self-inflicted guilt) all the more ripe for smoke breaks.
And masturbation; had to jerk off at some point. So the woman. Kerri. Its still fresh, this lingering wound. I fell in love with her. Why that fact was the impetus for her departure is beyond me.
well, its not I could foresee the problems that would incur. Beside the fact that shes 6 years clean and Im a raging alcoholic. Beside the fact that Im a writer and she hardly reads a word nor can put two words together in writing. And yes, shes 41 and Im 25. but the sex! Gaddamnit, I miss her naked body in my bed. Making love to her.
Watching her back arch when she comes. Her fabulously sexy voice and those tattoos I loved to touch. Letting my hands speak to her, as she put it. She loved my hands, my touch and I miss having that appreciation, a place to be my truest self. For giving pleasure, for having a space to be loving. Im so not over this yet.
I could afford myself the pleasure of crying this morning/afternoon, but I have to keep composed for when company returns from breakfast. I hear nothing from her. I know, I know my falling in love with her scared her. Shes trying to put me out of her mind so she doesnt have to deal with reciprocal feelings. But didnt we share something together? Wasnt our connection amazing?
Do I deserve to be punished this way for loving too much? Or rather, for being honest with my passion and letting it manifest in words and action? The place I let myself go with her Im not good at trusting people to experience me with that degree of raw intimacy. I at once curse myself for misguiding my trust and feel blessed for having that memory of experience tucked away in my back pocket. I take away knowing how satisfying it can feel, loving and being loved and I take away a heart that aches a lot more than cuts on my body. I had my heart broken already.
Im still not over /that/ one, however long it has been since I left her. But I left her. Ive never been dumped before. Sure, Ive been with someone entirely unavailable. But I signed up for it, falling for a married woman with kids. And I think the reason why that still lingers is because she too got to have a piece of me that no one previously had access to.
Somehow putting her behind me, Claudia, means putting that part of what went on somewhere on a shelf as well. 30 Helens Agree: Love Hurts (hell break your heart, honey! ) enough. Im going to get stupid again if I let myself entertain these thoughts of pain for too much longer. Im damaged goods, but if I can learn to stop thinking about myself like that Ill be much better off. Its not denial; its self-preservation, something I need more experience bolstering rather than throwing out the window.
I wanna beer. A little hair of the dog to get my mind back on track. Or off this track, whatever. Im not done writing. Its going to be one of those days. 
