“A Modest Proposal” or “Child of a Lesser God”

I’m scared.  There are so many things that I’m trying to say right now that they have created a sort of traffic jam in my head, and nothing can come out.  I’m not sure how to do this.  I’m not sure how to be loved.  It freaks me the fuck out.  I’ve become so accustomed to being a toy, a pawn, a cumdump, that when someone takes an interest in me I begin to crawl inside myself and shut down.

I’ve met someone new.  It was only supposed to be a thing.  Nothing of substance or of any consequence.  It should have only taken an hour- two tops.  Instead it’s taken three days.  Three days and a modest proposal.  Boyfriend.  What does that mean?  How do I do that?   What if I get in too deep, and I’m too afraid to get out?

I’ve never had to make a commitment to anyone but myself.  I’m kind of a dead beat in that department.  I missed a funeral today because I was still too high to get up this morning.  I’m flailing.  I can feel the reigns slipping between my fingers, and I’m not sure how to regain control.

I said yes.  I don’t feel any different.  I don’t have butterflies.  I don’t feel somehow more complete.  It doesn’t feel wrong, but it doesn’t feel right, doesn’t feel perfect.

Getting fucked is a performance I have perfected.  Maybe I’ve been typecast for a reason.  Maybe I’m not meant for anything better than that.

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