Men just aren't attractive like women are. Their genitals look gross unless they're aroused. They seem powerless when soft and threatening when hard. I was really into them for a while but I think this winter I am winding down. Am I entering another stage of lesbos? Am I gonna start chasing girls?
I don't know. I feel really uninspired by romance lately. I still dream about Pants but it's in a different way. I have those dreams of redemption. I have been having them about other people too. I dream that we talk and things are smooth between us once more.
I don't feel touched by much lately. I almost started crying today when the Beard said he couldn't hang out. I had really been looking forward to seeing him and I'm not sure why. I just like his company. I like his sense of humor and his crazy eyes. He's comfortable.
I've been talking to people in Boston but it goes nowhere. I get tired of conversations that dwindle. I get tired of nothing happening. I lose interest. I get bored.
I think I may be incredibly depressed.
Doctor tomorrow.
I just want to write something pretty before I go to bed. I've been so tired all the time. It's so hard to stay asleep. It's been so hard to wake up.
I painted a portrait of you months ago when I was caught in the throes of your affection. I didn't show it to anyone. I used a palette knife and broad strokes. I made you green and blue and gold and utterly out of proportion. It looked nothing like you, but I knew it was you, and I hid it among my supplies. I used it today as a palette. I covered your head in bright orange. I don't want to see your face anymore. I don't want any reminders of it. Of you.
I still miss you. It's hardest at night, like always. I lay in the darkness and try to will you back into my life. Instead I just deposit you in my dreams.
You would hate that I am writing about you.
It's not my fucking fault.
You're the one that tamed me.
Why'd you have to be so fucking predictable?
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