Get Out of the Night

Ha, fucking hilarious coming from someone who obsessively checks my blog every day even though I only post twice a month…

You just can’t let go, and you continually prove me right again and again and again. You’re not fooling anyone. Even your girlfriend will get sick of your obsession with me eventually. Keep it comin! 💋

I’m trying not to judge people for inconsequential shit like this anymore, but I somehow still can’t shake the gut feelings that:

- if you identify as female but refuse to perform oral sex on another female, you’re not sexually attracted to females

and

- if you’re a white person who fetishizes or mimics the appearance of classically Asian features or “anime” characteristics, you’re a piece of shit

but I realize these are personal biases so YEET

I’m gagging, last night was more amazing than I could have imagined 👏

It’s 4am, and he’s just getting in from work. I roll over and surrender a pillow. He goes to the bathroom; I’m asleep again. The drop of his weight on the bed startles me and I hear myself gasp - he catches me as my body lurches, and in one fluid motion pulls me tight into his torso, where my tense muscles relent like wet sand and fill each of his unclaimed curves. “Shhh, you’re okay. It’s okay. Calm down. I’m right here.” My home has a pulse, not an address.

Did you know that children often get poisoned by eating sweet-tasting lead paint that’s common in old houses? Symptoms of lead poisoning include confusion, irritability, impulsiveness, memory loss, and trouble focusing.

Last night, while Shahin held me tightly against his chest, I cried and stumbled over my words; “Where am I? How did I get here? I should have died in Rhode Island. I wish I could talk to Charley.” I cringed even as the words left my mouth; he brought nothing but pain.

“Why?” he asked calmly as he pet my hair.

“He’s horrible, but he understood.”

I’m not proud of that, not proud of how I feel lately. Two and a half months without medication has turned me into a wretched wretch.

I don’t even care about Charley anymore, but his mental illness spoke to mine in a way that once felt like love. It wasn’t love, it was lead - sweet-tasting, confusing, infuriating, intoxicating poison.

It’s everything else that I truly fucked up. I hurt my best friend in the world because I was tired and scared.

That was love once. I was blind.

My illness took control and hasn’t let go for three years (with the exception of a few months). It’s not an excuse. I wish I could make amends. I don’t want to be this person anymore. I’m still tired. More tired all the time.