Melancholia

I'm very melancholy today. Or at least for the last few hours. I'm not really sure why. I do believe that I have never had a meaningful relationship. I try to not feel bad about that...but I can't help it. I just want someone to love me I guess. With all my quirks and foibles. That's all. But I think I'm good at being a saboteur. I make it incredibly difficult for people to like me or love me or have any kind of affection. I build a wall and then I bomb the crap out of people who try to break through.

I shoot people down when they want to ...get close to me. In a physical sense. I can't handle someone invading my personal sphere anymore. The first time I had sex with Chris, I cried. He told me he loved me and I started to cry. At least he wasn't paying attention. He was too worried about his dick in my vagina. Or the condom falling off to notice that I had big alligator tears running down my face. I cried because I wanted to believe that he was telling the truth. I wanted it so badly.

I can handle kissing and cuddling and all that jazz...but anything more is just beyond me. I really can't begin to fathom how that can happen. I let it happen once recently (and when I say recent I mean like 2 years ago) and then I just closed up shop. I don't like people being close to me anymore. It seems easier to me to just push them all away and continue on with my business then to let someone see me have an orgasm. That's too personal. It's too close for comfort. I do not handle that well. I don't handle it at all. I make it a point to avoid that at all costs.

Bombs over Baghdad

I stuck a gun inside my vagina and pulled the trigger.

My ovaries felt the impact first as they shattered into a ball of light. The eggs were floating like pieces of styrofoam in the water.

It crushed my pelvic bone, destroyed my uterus, tore up my intestines and deflated my stomach. I didn't feel it when it happened. A bullet traveling at 800 feet/second will do that to you. It was a cool breeze across my flesh as it tore a hole and then instantly filled it with blood.

800 feet/second of full metal jacketed insanity crashed into my spine. My legs crumbled and my knees knocked together like a 5 year old at her first dance recital. I would have cried out in pain as my kneecaps collided with the cement but I couldn't feel that either. I couldn't feel the snapping of ribs or the collapsing of my ribcage. The spokes of my body puncturing my skin and falling like twigs around me. It was painless and numb as the bullet traveled through me and continued on.

I'm never alone.

I feel like I'm alone all the time. I always get the feeling that I should be driving my car off a cliff. I want to just roll the car into traffic and snap my neck and die. I wouldn't have to worry about losing sleep or dealing with work or going to grad school or figuring out life. I could just be dead.

That doesn't seem like a normal thought process to have. I mean. ... Never.

I'm not happy. I never have been. There is always something else I should be doing. Or somewhere I should or someone I should call...yet I never do. I sit at home alone. I'm a hermit by nature. I don't socialize and I try to feel bad about it but I just can't.