A little bit numb. This is how it felt like, how the days, months, and years seem to pass eh? You just play video games, masturbate for a bit, eat a little, and then sleep. Meanwhile, you’ve got so much going for you that you haven’t worked on. Really, these habits need to go and you don’t want it to keep killing you now, wouldn’t you?
You keep chasing after people, like you’ve always done for the past XX amount of years. Sure, there’s this kick out of meeting people and seeing what they’re like, but you’ve got a serious health condition, and it’s not a good idea. Besides, you’ve already got a lot of careless “one night stands” with people you don’t really even like, and even if you do like them, you can’t really offer them anything to make them stay.
I’ll really have to put in more effort into taking care of myself. Is it true that we only really have enough time for ourselves and a few close others? Is this behavior a byproduct of my mom’s altruistic outlook in life, the way I lack the strength to even take care of myself?
I still talk to different kinds of people. And here’s to reminiscing a few that I’ve had sex with from the past couple of years, that I still somehow talk to.
—–, who I’ve known for a couple of years, and yet not really close enough to sustain conversations with, because of course, of my restraints and lack of self-esteem. The story he wrote was of course, something I could totally get, except of course I didn’t go into that environment, the school, and that kinda sucks to think about a lot still.
There’s —, who I’ve known for almost a year. We’ve had some good passionate sex, one last March(or was it around May?), and then somewhere around a few weeks ago, and I like him, a lot. Just, yeah, I’m still a little bit doubtful of myself, and think really I shouldn’t be here. This shouldn’t be that person.
There’s ——-, which I met through Facebook. I didn’t really know he had a boyfriend at that time, and I was, of course, heavily guarded and quiet even as we ate that night. He’s extremely friendly on Twitter, and I’m not sure why we really went for sex that time.
(All in all, really most of my sexual encounters weren’t memorable. I did not actually like being fucked, as far as I could tell. It really depended on how it was done, so I could still say I’m a Versa kind of guy. I DID love fucking this one guy who I had eye contact with, and we did it twice. Probably my most memorable)
I’m not really sure why I’m looking back to these memories. A lot of them are quite colorful, but really, they’re not worth the space they occupy in my head that much. They felt meaningless, and I get that we need those sometimes, but did it really make me grow? Did I learn anything after all these experiences?
Behind The Blinds 