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The Ideal First Date Part: 3.

After our Ideal Dinner date at this distinct restaurant, I would walk You to Your car to make sure You are safe.

Once we arrive at your car, I would say, “I had a great time, Love.”

You would say, “I had a great time, too. It would be nice to see you again.”

“Of course”, I would say, “I am pretty free most weekends, so just let me know when you want to meet up again.”

We would stand there for a few moments, grinning at each other and not wanting to be the first to officially end the date.

Eventually, You would clear your throat and say, “Is it weird that I want to make out with you right now, even though it is the first date?”

“Nah”, I would reply with a soft chuckle, “I would like to kiss you too, first date or not”

I would gently move in a little closer to you; our bodies only inches apart.

You would smoothly raise an eyebrow and say, “Well, you have permission to kiss me as though it was not our first date. Kiss me like…you have known me for months and you know exactly how I like it.”

Excitement would come over me from those weeks at the bookstore where we worked together, admiring you, and trying to muster up the courage to ask you out.

I lean in for the kiss.
Your lips lock with mine, and the space our lips hold fit perfectly into the other’s.

You slip your hands around my neck and slowly massage my nape, which turns me on more than you would ever know.

I would wrap My arms around Your waist and bring you so close that I would be able to feel your heart beat. Our breathing, in concurrence, would equally deepen as We continue to explore the other. Our tongues dancing around as though there were a familiar tune playing in the background of our kiss.

So much time would pass, that I would feel like I am kissing you forever, but that I could never dream about stopping.

Our kiss would intensify.

You would slowly pull my hand from your waist to your left breast, and the intricate softness would catch me by surprise because I would later reveal to you that I never actually touched a woman like that before.

I would not make my surprise apparent to you, but would instead, start to massage your breast slowly, gently, passionately, like I always imagined myself doing when I masturbate.

Your moan passes through Your lips as You would continue to kiss me deeper…and deeper.

I would feel so aroused that I could see myself just making love to you right there in the parking lot…

An Ideal First Date Part: 2.

At some point in this date, you would ask me about the types of women I usually go for.
I would tell you that I usually go for smooth women, like You.

You would giggle.

I would giggle.

Our eyes would Lock.

My brain at this point, will be trying to tell my eyes to look away and stare at something else.

Unfortunately, on this particular night, Your eyes would be too mesmerizing to look away and honestly I would not want to.
The corners of Your red lips would lift slowly, then Your tongue would take a slow glide along them both.

The enticement would almost be too much for me to handle, and yet I still cannot look away.

“Do you like what you see?” , You would ask.

“I love what I see”, I would reply.

“You two need desert menus?”, the Server interrupts…

An Ideal First Date.

An ideal first date with You would be at a distinct restaurant with distinct music and distinct menus.
I think You may be wearing something short…and Black; something easy to remove.

On our ideal date, We would have great conversation that would be short-lived, because Our subconscious minds have more in store than what is typically appropriate of being said, because: First Dates.

I think You would order salmon and broccoli.
I would order chicken tenders.

I would probably be wearing something silk, and revealing, revealing to You.
I am sure you are checking out my chest which is peaking from underneath a button up shirt, I have buttoned downed to the fourth hole.

You laugh at all my corny jokes, because You are easy going and down to Earth.

I admire Your eyes when You speak because I am deep and You are an ocean.

Yes, this First Date is intense.

Crash.

I think I…should have seen You coming.

Your lights were in high beam, Your heart was in 3rd gear.
Why did I not hear You as Your words screeched like tires on My tired road. Why could I not see You?
Does this make Me stupid? Obscured? Devoted to feeling heartache, and pain.

I think the difference between You and I is the fact that at least I can be honest about My lust, about My distrust for You, My yearn for You, My love, My lust for You.
At least I can be honest.

Why could You not at least say, “Fuck you”, if that is what You felt?
Instead, You said nothing. Absolutely nothing, and that left Me, leaving you, breathing You.

And I have nothing left to receive from You, or even the thought of You, I cannot think of you, I cannot stop thinking of You.

I think…I…Crashed.

The Lonely Tranny

I know this may be inappropriate, but I yern for you to sit with me and listen, to be present, to let go of the past, and for us to hang on to eachother.

To stare into the eyes and reveal truth that decays the bone and rots the body.

Please do not be afraid.

I stand alone within a crowd of people.

I stand against the wall of elegance, propped body, and broad shoulders; please do not leave.

I imagine what it would mean to never hide myself away; to not be implanted with the fear that everyone will turn away and go an alternate route.

That I will continue to stand against the wall, breathing deep inhales, sobbing from my damp spirit.

Please…do not go.

I cannot and will not change, but I am much fun.

Maybe it is just that, nobody is looking for me.

Many people are looking for fit, pretty girls, who can be chill and charismatic.

I am not too chill or charismatic…or maybe I am but am unable to see it clearly, clouded by the weather of fatigue.

It would do good to rest the body, mind, and spirit.

To go home.

Family Ties

Family.

That word seems so foriegn and abundant. I must be grateful for the life flowing through my mother, father and grandmother because many cannot say their’s is still around.

Family: a strange word. For I am unfamiliar with the familiarity of the family’s flemsy feels toward the aroma of indifference that crowds me. They refuse to understand until I am laying dead in my coffin smiling at them reminding them of the time I just wanted to talk, show them my new book, or just be myself.

To You.

Hey.

I feel pretentious writing this because I still do not understand why I am doing it.

Maybe this is closure?

Delete

Hey.

It is me.

I think my soul needs to do this and you certainly do not have to respond.

Delete

I miss you.

I miss your energy and the connection of us. I felt anger for you for a long time out of jealousy.

Delete

Why was i not enough for you? What could I have done to help you to see me? Maybe these questions are obscured but I loved you…I am still Loving you and I really do not want to be.

I wish I could let my heart know that.

Delete

There is this gaping hole-space inside of me that I have filled with complacency.

Maybe I was empty before you, and now I can feel it. I feel you spiritually and my body vibrates to the thought of you.

The sex with you meant more for me than I allowed myself to process and I am still trying to process it.

I felt small in your mind as though you used me to fill your own empty hole-space inside of you and that hurts more than if I knew you were in Love with someone else.

I know this because you were, indeed, in love with someone else.

Delete

I wish it could have been me.

Delete

I have never met another person like you. I have never met someone who made it so easy for me to bring me out of myself.

My apology goes only to myself for pretending I did…do..did…do not Love you.

Shit.

DELETE.

I love you.

Delete

Hi.

Adulting..

Adulting has pushed me into the pool again and is dangling a dry towel above me.

I think I am doing it wrong. Actually I know for a fact I am seeing that I lack maturity, money, cares in the world, and children.

Adutling keeps me up at night and I have come to the conclusion that it requires inhibition and discipline; two things I have no desire to grasp.

The paradox is, my mental state is hindering me from normality and I just appear lazy and unbothered, which maybe be partially true.

I think I also may be in severe denile that I am sick mentally and being an adult is putting a coat on my cold body that is shivering from drops of psychosis.

Worry not they say because I have two options here: enslave myself with medication that not only sedates my thoughts, creativity, and flow of sexual energy, but that also enables my pending appetite.

OR

I can suck it up and continue to suffer in silence.

Oh how I admire our societal norms with its duration of ignorance toward pyschological trauma and deception.

Depression?

Fuck.

Yes I will start this blog post out with a word that intellectually defines abundance, while concurrently using it to represent my perpetual confusion about things I cannot explain; my life represents 100% of those things.

Honestly, I do not think I am ashamed of it, but shame still creeps in, reminding me of the downfall that could be me.

Part me of uses shame to devote motivation and the likelyhood of my sucesses and maybe that is a beautiful way to look at my own extension of negative thinking.

There are so many outlets in the world to release the fixture of pain from my mind, body, and soul, however, I am so idignant and prideful that the very knowlege and intention of me helping myself can result in me detesting said outlet.

To say the least, I feel extremely unhealthy, while romanticizing this heavy, toxic feeling because it seperates me somehow from my pain. It allows me agency to feel as though things are not my fault or that I really cannot help it.

Am I being unconsciously dramatic and consciously sadistic ? This poses as a mental health question and i am mostly in need of marijuana based smoke session.

I am exhausted and I still cannot sleep. So tense that I cannot relax and it feels so insighfully painful that i laugh when crying and maybe this is depression.

F*ck Being Rich.

When you are rich, you do not actually have money. You have more trees in your wallet than in the parks around the noisy city in which you live.

You still cannot breathe any better or any deeper than you would or could in those parks. It is sad, I imagine to be rich, to be frugal and greedy simultaneously combined with the fact that you have not eaten for days due to your eating disorder.

You have slit your wrists many times, however, the blood never drips onto the money you used to buy yourself new long sleeved shirts.

Being rich does not ensure you to Love, or insure you to healing. It does not cause you harm, being that you are intertwined inside a web of toxic spiders, biting you with advertisement sales on how to look prettier.